


Homecoming

by orphan_account



Series: Homecoming [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Murder Mystery, Past Child Abuse, Serial Killer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 46,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6837529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catelyn Stark’s glare was making it very clear that she did not like him one little bit.</p><p>Not that she had ever liked him. Jon knew she had her reasons, whether or not they were justifiable. This time, though, he figured she had a pretty good reason to hate him.</p><p>He had, after all, just implied that her sister was a murderer.</p><p>Jon made to calm the two socialites’ outrage, but his words died on his tongue as Robb Stark walked into the room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

To say Jon was nervous was probably an understatement. Being called into the police commissioner’s office as was a _big deal_ , in bold, capital letters, for a lowly third-grade vice detective. 

Not that Jon wasn’t _proud_ to be a lowly third-grade vice detective, especially since he was among the youngest to ever achieve the rank, but he wasn’t under any delusions that his abilities were the reason he was called into Commissioner Mormont’s office. He was fairly positive his promotion to detective had only happened so quickly because of his youthful looks and skill at undercover work. Those things came in handy in vice, but he couldn’t imagine they’d be useful for anything Mormont needed.

On the other hand, though, he hadn’t done anything wrong or given anyone any reason to _think_ that he had done anything wrong.

Which left him with no clue what the commissioner wanted from him.

“You’re a contradiction, you know, Snow?” Mormont commented, leaning back in his chair and gazing at him with an unreadable expression.

“Sir?” he said, not really knowing how to answer.

The commissioner smirked at him. “Half the people I ask about you call you arrogant, the other half swears you’re the most self-effacing person they’ve ever met. Some call you a know-it-all, some say you know nothing at all. I’ve seen crooked politicians with more consistent reputations.”

Jon carefully kept his face impassive even as a sliver of apprehension ran through him. They thought he was dirty. That’s why he was called in. “I’m not crooked, sir,” he replied simply.

Mormont waved off his comment. “I know that,” he told him, leaning forward and looking Jon in the eye. “I didn’t call you in because you’re in trouble, Snow.”

“Then why did you call me in?” he asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“You grew up on the Upper East Side,” the commissioner stated, flipping open a folder in front of him. At the mention of his childhood, Jon’s blood ran cold. “Your file says you attended Westeros Academy. That’s a pretty swanky private school. We don’t get many police recruits with credentials like that. Not a lot of trust fund babies on the force.”

Jon scowled. “I wasn’t a trust fund baby. Just a charity case.” Not that his foster father was a bleeding heart philanthropist by any stretch of the imagination.

“Regardless, you know these people, you know how they think, you know the circles they run in, that kind of thing,” Mormont said thoughtfully.

“Yeah…” he answered hesitantly, not liking where the conversation seemed to be headed.

The commissioner nodded, picking up another file and sliding it across the desk to him. “Then you’re the perfect man for the case.”

Jon tentatively took the file but didn’t open it. “What case, sir?”

“Jon Arryn is dead,” Mormont told him grimly, motioning for him to open the folder, which Jon did to find himself staring at a picture of the easily recognizable face of the old man lying dead on a cold autopsy table. “Family and friends initially assumed heart attack, but his wife demanded the coroner perform an autopsy. He found a high concentration of tropane alkaloids.” At Jon’s blank look, he added, “Belladonna.”

He blinked at that. “As in deadly nightshade belladonna? Isn’t that a little medieval?”

Mormont snorted. “Well, you know these people.”

“And you think someone in his social circle killed him?” Jon clarified, finding it hard to believe. He had known Jon Arryn growing up. Everyone had loved him. He couldn’t imagine the old man doing anything to offend anyone. Hell, he had even treated Jon, the poor, pitiful foster kid, like he was no different from the other boys around him.

Then again, if someone in that particular crowd were going to kill someone, Jon would have definitely bet on them using poison.

“Sir, I don’t think I should be the one on the case,” he told him seriously, hating himself just a bit for giving up the opportunity but knowing it was the right call. “There’s probably a conflict of interest.”

“Detective investigate their childhood neighborhoods all the time,” Mormont said dismissively. “You don’t have any family there, and if you didn’t know about Arryn’s death, I’d bet you don’t have many close friends there either.” Jon really couldn’t argue with either of those points. “Besides, Lieutenant Yoren is going to take point on the investigation. He just needs a competent partner with an in in the community.”

Jon’s eyes widened. Lieutenant Yoren was the head of the homicide unit in the 19th Precinct. He had been promoted after he had caught the guy who had set off a bomb during the Macy Thanksgiving Parade several years ago. He had just been a beat cop at the time. The guy was a legend.

How the hell was he supposed to be competent partner for a frickin’ _legend_?

“He’ll be expecting you at the 19th tomorrow,” Mormont went on, not even letting Jon think about telling him no. “Eight o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.”

Jon recognized a dismissal when he heard from, standing up and nodding. “Thank you, sir,” he said because it was expected, even if his insides were screaming at him to turn down the case, to go back to vice and live out the rest of his days as a lowly third-grade detective.

That sounded so much better than going back to his childhood neighborhood that had _never_ felt like home.

 

#

 

As soon as he got back to his crummy little apartment in Queens, Jon called the only person from his childhood that he still had any contact with.

Sam Tarly answered the phone after about three rings. “Jon?” he said instead of a standard greeting, sounding puzzled. “Is everything alright? You never call.”

That was true enough. Unless he had to call for work, Jon usually texted. Texting was much less intrusive than calling, and Jon hated to be intrusive.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Jon Arryn, Sam?” he asked in accusation. If he had known about the murder beforehand, he wouldn’t have been so blindsided by getting assigned to it. And he may have known how to say no.

“I was going to tell you!” he defended, voice high like it always was whenever he was flustered. “I just didn’t know how, you know? I know he was Robb’s uncle and that you knew him pretty well.”

Jon squeezed his eyes shut and let his forehead land heavily on the wall he was leaning against. The name was like a dagger to his heart, but he couldn’t let it get to him. He had no right to feel the pain.

“I would have appreciated the heads up about a murder as a detective,” he ground out eventually.

“Murder!” Sam cried, panicked. That caused Jon to roll his eyes. He was sure the man was eying the locks on his door right now, as if whoever had killed Arryn would come bursting through it at any moment. “Who’s calling it a murder?”

“The coroner who found the poison in him,” Jon said dryly. “And the commissioner has roped me into the investigation because I ‘know the people,’” he continued sarcastically. “Like I’ve seen any of them in the last ten years.”

Sam made a derisive noise. “As if any of these people ever change,” he remarked bitterly. “But for what it’s worth, I’ll feel safer with you around.”

“Well, it’s not like I have much of a choice,” he replied with a shake of his head. “But I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing. I just…”

“I know,” he told him softly, sympathy heavy in his voice. Jon barely bit back a biting comment about how Sam _didn’t_ know, but he knew that would just be cruel. “I would have warned you if I had known the police suspected a murder.”

“Yeah, well, thanks,” he said, needing to get off the phone before his emotions overwhelmed him. “Bye, Sam.”

He hung up and barely kept himself from throwing the phone in misplaced anger. Instead, he took a deep breath and sank down onto the couch, numbly turning the television to something loud and happy and mindless.

He couldn’t let himself wallow in self-pity over this, he decided after a while of, admittedly, wallowing in self-pity. The past was the past. He couldn’t change it, and it had absolutely no bearing on his life _now_. 

It was one case. He’d play sidekick to Lieutenant Yoren, they’d find out who murdered Jon Arryn, and then they would leave the blue-bloods to their snobbery. He might not even have to see Robb at all.

With that comforting thought, he shut the tv off and went straight to bed.

 

#

 

If Jon thought he could avoid seeing Robb Stark, he quickly changed his mind as Lieutenant Yoren drove them straight to the Stark house the next morning.

“Why are we here?” he asked, looking to his new partner and sounding a little lost. Pull it together, Snow, he told himself harshly. This is your job. _Do it_.

Yoren raised an eyebrow at him. The lieutenant was older than Jon thought he would be, but he was by no means old. Jon had instantly liked his no-nonsense attitude, grateful for a partner who would tell him like it is instead playing games. If Jon were to guess, he would say that the reason Yoren had yet to rise any higher in the rankings was his unwillingness to play games.

“Now where else do you expect us to start if not the wife?”

Jon made a face but got out of the car all the same. With Arryn being like a father to Ned Stark, it was easy to forget that their wives were actually sisters. Jon really should have expected for the Starks to be high on their to-be-interrogated list, even if Lysa wasn’t staying with her sister.

A fashionable young girl with bright red hair answered the door when Yoren knocked, her blue eyes going wide as they slid past the lieutenant and landed on Jon. He recognized her immediately as Sansa Stark, no longer the teenage girl he remembered but he couldn’t forget that face.

“Jon!” she cried out in surprise, brushing past Yoren and surprising Jon by throwing her arms around him. “It’s been so long,” she murmured before pulling back and smiling at him. “You haven’t changed a bit!”

To say that Jon was shocked would have been an understatement. He and Sansa had never really been that great of friends, no matter how often he was over at her house. Arya had always been his little shadow, and Bran and Rickon’s hero-worship of Robb had rubbed off on Jon, but Sansa had always treated her older brother’s friends with tolerance if not disdain.

“I’m afraid this isn’t a social call, Sansa,” he told her, not really knowing what else to say. He held up in badge sheepishly. “We’re here to see your aunt.”

She frowned a bit but nodded and stepped back. “Come on, she’s in the parlor with Mother,” she said, leading them into the house. She gave Jon a rueful little smile as they approached the room. “I’m still glad you’re here, even if it isn’t the greatest of circumstances.”

It wasn’t long before he was sitting across from Lysa Arryn and Catelyn Stark, drawing their attention as Yoren walked about the room and chimed in at random intervals.

Catelyn Stark’s glare was making it very clear that she did not like him one little bit.

Not that she had ever liked him. Jon knew she had her reasons, whether or not they were justifiable. This time, though, he figured she had a pretty good reason to hate him.

He had, after all, just implied that her sister was a murderer.

Jon made to calm the two socialites’ outrage, but his words died on his tongue as Robb Stark walked into the room.

Either he had forgotten how gorgeous the other man was or he had grown more attractive with the years. Jon was not prepared for the sudden rush of emotions as he stared into those too-blue eyes.

“Jon?” Robb said faintly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What are you doing here?”

“Accusing your aunt of murdering her husband,” Catelyn said harshly.

“I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” Jon replied, finding it difficult to slip on the impassive mask he had been wearing. “It’s protocol to rule out all obvious suspects before moving an investigation along.”

Robb caught sight of the badge clipped to Jon’s belt. “You’re a detective?”

“Of course I had nothing to do with my husband’s death,” Lysa said disdainfully. “I was the one who wanted an autopsy done, remember? If I hadn’t insisted, Jon’s death would have been ruled natural! I would have to be the most incompetent murderer in all of history to ask for an autopsy!”

“Or the smartest,” Yoren quipped. “Come on, Snow. We’ve got a crime scene to check out.”

Jon followed the lieutenant numbly out the door, resisting the urge to look back to stare at Robb. “We didn’t finish the interview,” he said dumbly after they had gotten into the car.

Yoren rolled his eyes. “Those two high-class broads aren’t gonna tell us anything,” he told him with a shake of his head. “You and I both know that. If we want the truth in this investigation, it won’t come from those two. Though the boy seemed like he’d be pretty willing to answer questions if the right detective were asking them,” he added suggestively.

Jon narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to use Robb like that,” he snapped angrily.

“You ever think that maybe your boyfriend might _want_ to help us catch his uncle’s murderer?”

“ _Ex_ -boyfriend,” he corrected bitterly before wincing. He hadn’t meant to let Yoren known exactly what kind of history he had with Robb Stark. There were a good many in law enforcement that didn’t take too kindly to gays, even in this day and age.

Yoren just laughed and put the car in gear. “I _knew_ there was history between the two of you.”

tbc…


	2. Chapter Two

“So tell me, which one of you did the dumping?” Yoren asked him as they walked through the Arryn house. They were currently in the late Jon Arryn’s office, where he had been found dead.

Jon pursed his lips as he rummaged through the drawers of Arryn’s death, carefully not looking over to where Yoren was surveying the pictures hanging on the adjacent wall. “Shouldn’t we be focusing on the crime scene? Has forensics looked it over?

The lieutenant snorted. “Yeah, but you know as well as I do that there won’t be many clues here. The butler or maid or whoever will have already cleaned up anything really useful. Right now we’re just looking for a clue to motive, but in the meantime, there’s no reason we can’t get to know each other,” he added, giving Jon a cheerful smirk.

“Alright then,” he said grumpily, pushing a drawer shut with more force than necessary. “Why don’t you tell me about your divorce? It had to have been recent, what with the tan line still on your finger and all.”

Yoren surprised him by laughing. “I can see why Mormont pulled you out of vice. That’s a pretty good catch for a rookie.”

Jon scowled and opened another drawer. “Mormont pulled me out of vice because I grew up with these people and know how they think. It didn’t have anything to do with how good a detective I am.”

“If you believe the commissioner only has one reason for anything he does, you’ve got a lot to learn about politics,” he shot back good-naturedly. “And I’ve seen your record myself. You’re one of the youngest detectives on the force, and your arrest record is impressive. You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m going to let you go back to vice and get killed on some undercover job.”

Jon looked up sharply at that. “I haven’t gotten killed yet,” he said, not really knowing what else to say in response.

“That’s because you’re still enough of a rookie to think you’re invincible,” he commented before picking up a picture of a toddler on the desk. “Who’s this?”

“Arryn’s son, Robyn,” he said, barely glancing at the picture. “He’s probably a little over ten now. He was born right before I graduated high school.”

Yoren sneered in disgust. “Wasn’t this guy like 80?”

“Yeah,” Jon answered, huffing a laugh. “Lysa Arryn is at least 30 years younger than her husband. She was probably more attracted to his money than him, but she’s always been a little weird if you ask me.”

“Yeah, I could see that there wasn’t much love lost between you and her and her sister,” he said with a raised brow.

“Neither of them approved of Robb being friends with a foster kid,” he told him shortly, shutting the last drawer of the desk and frowning. “There’s nothing here.”

Yoren sighed but put down the picture he was still holding. “Of course there’s not. We’re not that lucky. Come on,” he said, making for the door. “I’m sure we’ve got a mountain of Arryn’s financials to sort through waiting for us back at the precinct. Maybe we’ll find something there.”

Jon straightened and followed him out. He paused at the doorway and glanced back, almost expecting to see Arryn in the leather desk chair, giving Jon the same knowing and reassuring look he always gave him whenever he and Robb were in trouble with Lysa.

Jon Arryn had been one of the most decent men he had known growing up. So who the hell would want to kill him?

 

#

 

“I knew it was only a matter of time before they yanked you out of vice,” Ygritte told him, a smug look on her face as she slid a beer across the table to him. His vice partner had asked him for a drink after work, and considering he and Yoren had found absolutely nothing in Arryn’s financial records, Jon desperately needed a drink.

“It’s a pity,” she continued with mock sorrow. “I hear there’s a prostitution ring that the captain was going to send you in on. Supposed to be connected to the Iron-Borns. I was looking forward to helping you dress up to be a boy toy.”

Jon grimaced at that before taking a swig of the beer. He had heard that rumor as well. He was glad he wouldn’t be available for the assignment. The Iron-Borns were a vicious and well-organized criminal syndicate that was involved with all kinds of criminal enterprises, from lowly drug deals to high profile murders. It was risky posing as a prostitute on any assignment, but Jon didn’t want to think about what would happen if he got caught posing as one in a ring controlled by the Iron-Borns.

“Oh don’t make that face,” Ygritte said with a roll of her eyes. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

“Like you didn’t let anything happen to me last year when we broke up that human trafficking ring?” he asked with a mischievous smirk.

She scowled at him. “I told you to duck.”

“You could’ve told me _before_ you shot at the guys behind me,” he countered.

“I’m pretty sure they would have killed you if I had waited,” she shot back. “And you were barely grazed.”

“The bullet went straight through my right shoulder!” he cried in protest.

“Exactly,” she said with a smirk. “It went _straight through_. Just a flesh wound. You’re the one who blew it out of proportion by making me take you to the emergency room and everything.”

Jon huffed a laugh and shook his head. That had been an awful night for both of them. They had been ambushed, but Ygritte had managed to get them out alive. Jon hadn’t been much help, as he had been busy bleeding out on the floor.

He could still remember Ygritte’s face, pale and fearful, as she screamed into her radio for an ambulance.

“Guess you’ll have to make sure the next partner they give you isn’t so dramatic,” he told her sadly, taking another drink of his beer.

She smiled ruefully. “Whoever it is, they won’t be as good as you.”

“Was that actually a compliment?” Jon asked in feigned amazement.

“No!” she protested. Then she smiled. “Maybe. But you know, they haven’t given me a new partner, and the captain said it could be a while. Until then I’m stuck on desk duty so, you know, if you ever need a hand…”

He smiled back at her. “Thanks. Hopefully this investigation won’t take that long though.”

Ygritte gave him a searching look. “What happened to make you hate these people so much? What’d they do to you?”

Jon gave her a surprised look. “I don’t hate them. I’ve never hated them. I just never belonged there.”

“Bullshit,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You forget I’ve seen you drunk before, and every time you’re drunk, you go on and on about Robb fucking Stark. If you loved him enough to hang on to it for ten years, something you hated had to have kept you away for so long.”

He snorted derisively and finished his beer. “The only person who’s ever kept me away from Robb is me. So maybe I hate myself.”

“Jon…” she murmured, looking pained. He stood before she could say anything else, giving her a forced smile.

“It’s late. I’ve got an early start in the morning. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He left the bar without another look at Ygritte, knowing that if he stayed another second, she would only pester him with questions he didn’t want to answer.

As boring as going over Jon Arryn’s bank statements and hedge funds had been, the mind-numbing task had been a welcome respite to thinking about Robb all day, but of course, Ygritte had to bring the man up again.

When he got back to his apartment, he went straight to bed. No use staying up any longer when he knew what he was going to be dwelling on.

 

#

 

_They were both doubled over laughing after they had made their escape to Robb’s bedroom, Arya’s shouts of outrage and vows of vengeance still audible from downstairs. They both knew that she wasn’t that mad at them. She didn’t want to go to Myrcella’s birthday party, and if she had to go, she_ definitely _didn’t want to wear the pretty pink dress her mother had bought her for the occasion. She had complained about all the ruffles and bows on it for_ weeks _._

_Really, they did her a favor by turning the sprinklers on as soon as she stepped outside._

_“Mom isn’t going to be too happy with us,” Robb managed to get out between bouts of laughter, straightening up and wiping tears from his eyes._

_Jon just laughed some more. “You can blame it all on me, if you want. She’s never too happy with me anyway.”_

_Robb sobered up at that and frowned as he looked at him. “I don’t like it when people blame things on you.”_

_“Oh, come on,” he scoffed, shaking his head and nudging the other teen with his elbow. “Don’t get so serious on me. I was just joking. Besides, the worse your mother could do was ban me from the house, and that just means we’d hang out somewhere else.”_

_“Well, I’m not joking,” Robb told him solemnly. “I don’t like it when people look down on you.”_

_Jon swallowed uncomfortably and looked away, Robb’s gaze too intense for him to meet. His heart was pounding in his chest suddenly, half-afraid that this was all a dream and sure that he was misinterpreting that look. Because there’s no way Robb could be looking at_ him _like_ that.

_“Robb, I—”_

_“Shh,” he murmured, stepping closer and bringing a hand up to curve around the back of Jon’s neck. Jon inhaled sharply at that, staring into those blue eyes, convinced that this couldn’t be happening. “You’re going to say something self-deprecating and I don’t like that either.”_

_Before Jon could reply, Robb’s lips had covered his own in a soft kiss._

 

Jon’s eyes snapped away. He blinked away tears at the memory of his first kiss with Robb. First kiss ever, really.

He sat up in bed and brought his hands up to fist in his hair. He should have expected to be haunted by dreams of Robb tonight. Today was the first time he had seen the other man in a decade. How was it still possible to love him so much after so long?

He snorted to himself mockingly. He knew exactly how it was possible. It was hard to get over someone when you pretty much stopped living after leaving them. 

After he and Robb broke up, he had thrown himself into his studies with even more rigor than he had before. It was easy, as the only friend he had senior year had been Sam, and the shy boy hadn’t really put much demand on Jon’s social life. He finished college in three years, taking on heavy course loads to distract himself from the loss of Robb, and had dedicated himself to his job as soon as he was taken by the police academy.

There had been no time to deal with his Robb-shaped emotional baggage, let alone get over the man. And a handful of one-night stands could never really make him forget his first love.

Fuck, why did he take this assignment? He may have been pathetic before, but at least then he could package it all away and shove it deep into a dark corner of his mind, never to think about it. He had been perfectly functional, thank you very much.

He didn’t know if he could pack it away again after seeing Robb Stark again in the flesh.

 

#

 

“We’re interviewing Tywin Lannister today,” Yoren told him as he walked into the bullpen, not even letting Jon get settled before he was grabbing his arm and pulling him out the door again. “I figure we might have better luck with Arryn’s business partner than we did his wife.”

“Joy,” Jon muttered, getting into Yoren’s car. 

“You’re a ray of sunshine this morning,” his partner quipped.

He rolled his eyes without answering, letting the silence stretch between them as they drove through the streets occupied by the wealthiest people in New York. He was pretty sure the Lannisters were probably the richest of the rich, and he didn’t remember them ever having any problem with using the power that came with so much money.

He was certain they wouldn’t find Tywin Lannister anymore helpful than they had found Lysa Arryn.

“What do you know about Lannister?” Yoren asked as they pulled into a curb-side parking space near the house.

Jon shrugged. “Not a lot. I don’t even really know what sort of business he and Arryn had. I didn’t pay any attention to that sort of thing. His grandson was a couple of years younger than me and was the most annoying little prick that I’ve ever met, if that’s any help.” 

“Not really, but I guess we’ll get to see if he takes after his grandfather,” the lieutenant said with a laugh.

Two minutes into the interview with Tywin Lannister, Jon had pretty much decided that the man was a dick. A dick that was very good at hiding that he was a dick, but a dick all the same.

And they had barely gotten through their introductions.

“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill Jon,” Lannister was saying, a carefully-schooled expression of grief on his face. Jon may have believed that man was truly grieving for his dead business partner, if his flinty eyes hadn’t given him away.

This was a cold man, a calculating man, and a man that probably saw no value in grief.

Unfortunately, it didn’t necessarily make him a killer.

“Did he mention anything odd to you in the weeks leading up to his murder?” Jon asked.

Tywin shook his head. “Nothing comes to mind.” Then those sharp eyes narrowed at Jon. “Do I know you from somewhere, detective?”

He fought to keep his face impassive as he answered. “I grew up in the neighborhood,” he answered simply. “I went to Westeros a few grades ahead of your son.”

Recognition dawned on the old man’s face. “Oh, yes. You were the foster boy Senator Targaryen took in.”

Jon fought back a wince at his foster father’s name but nodded. “Yes,” he replied before quickly changing the subject. “What did you think of Jon’s relationship with his wife?”

Tywin snorted. “Jon doted on his crazy wife, and she worshiped him in return. If that’s the angle you’re pursuing, I doubt you’re going to get very far.”

“Then where would you start looking?” Yoren asked.

Lannister smirked at them before he answered, his piercing eyes making it clear that he thought they were both idiots and far, _far_ beneath him.

“Petyr Baelish.”

tbc… 


	3. Chapter Three

“I don’t buy it,” Jon said as soon as they were in the car again and well on their way to the precinct. “Jon Arryn would never do business with someone like Baelish.”

“Well, if Petyr Baelish is involved, our job just became a helluva lot harder,” Yoren replied with a sigh. “Things are always harder when the fuckin’ mob is involved.” 

“Jon Arryn was one of the most honest men I ever knew,” he insisted, brow furrowed as he tried to fit a man like Baelish into a man like Arryn’s world. “I can’t believe he knowingly had anything to do with a crime boss.”

“Maybe it wasn’t knowingly,” Yoren suggested with a shrug. “But with a man like Lannister as a partner, he couldn’t have been the bastion of goodness you seem to think he was. You’ve got to remember that the man you knew through a child’s eyes ten years ago might not be the same man he was when he died.”

Jon snorted at that. He didn’t think he had ever really been a child. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But didn’t it strike you as odd that Lannister said he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to kill Arryn before he turned around five minutes later to point the finger at Baelish?”

“It did seem a bit strange,” the lieutenant agreed, weaving through traffic before pulling into a fire zone next to the precinct. “You know any of the guys in Organized Crime?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “One of the guys I used to work the beat with is a detective there.”

“Good, take the car and go over there and don’t leave until you know everything there is to know about any possible connection Petyr Baelish has with Jon Arryn,” Yoren told him. “And if it takes you all day, go back tomorrow.”

Jon grimaced at the task, knowing he’d probably be chasing red herrings for the next couple of days. But seeing as it was their only lead, he couldn’t really say it wasn’t necessary. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m pulling everything I can on Tywin Lannister and Lysa Arryn,” he answered.

“If we keep putting everyone we talk to on the suspect list, it’ll be miles long before we’re done,” he pointed out.

Yoren laughed. “Just as long as we don’t leave the right name off the list.”

The lieutenant hopped out of the car, and Jon clambered over to the driver’s seat, adjusting the seat to accommodate for his legs, which were just a hair longer than Yoren’s. He had just eased off the curb and into traffic when the ringing of his phone startled him.

Feeling a bit stupid for jumping a little at the sound, he shook his head at himself before bringing the phone to his ear. “Snow.”

“Jon?”

He was lucky he didn’t have wreck as his arm jerked reflexively at the sound of Robb’s voice. He straightened the car hastily before it could veer into the next lane and clutched the phone tighter. “Robb,” he breathed, not really knowing what to say. “How’d you get my number?”

“It was on the card you left with my mother and aunt,” he explained dismissively before his voice became imploring. “We didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday.”

“I was working,” he said numbly. “I’m _still_ working,” he added.

“I know, and I’m sorry to disturb you when you’re working but I couldn’t wait any longer,” Robb insisted. “Jon, it’s been _ten years_ since we saw each other. Even longer since we talked, _really_ talked, I mean.”

“I didn’t know we had anything to talk about anymore,” he replied, knowing he was being an ass. Robb deserved so much better than him, but he never seemed to understand that. Not even when Jon was being a deliberate ass.

“Don’t do that. It’s not going to work,” he told him calmly.

Jon scowled. How was it that after ten years, the other man could still read him like a book? “Do what?”

“Try to make me angry to keep me at arm’s length,” Robb said with far too much certainty in his voice. “Don’t you think you owe me at least one real conversation after you broke both of our hearts in high school?”

He swallowed thickly at the accusation, but didn’t bother denying it. It was true. He had broken both their hearts all those years ago. He was sure Robb’s had healed. His, however, had not.

“I can’t talk now,” he said, his own voice sounding foreign to his ears. “I’m working.”

“Then after work,” Robb suggested hopefully. “I’ll pick you up from your place around eight and we’ll grab some food.”

The suspicious part of Jon’s mind told him that that sounded an awful lot like a date to him, but the part of him that _wanted_ it to be a date told him to just go with it. Besides, Robb was right. He did owe him an explanation.

He sighed. “Fine.”

“No need to sound so excited,” Robb joked cheerfully. Jon rolled his eyes. Robb had never taken his bad moods seriously, which was probably the only reason he had managed to put up with Jon for so long. “Now, tell me your address so that when you refused to see me again after tonight, I can stalk you all I like.”

That surprised a laugh out of Jon before he rattled off his address. God, he had forgotten how light and carefree Robb had always made him feel. They bantered back and forth a bit more after Jon had loosened up a bit, but his arrival at the station forced the call to come to an end.

After his conversation with Robb, he walked into the Organized Crime Unit with a slight spring in his step and a smile on his lips, making a beeline for Grenn’s desk.

The other detective looked up and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Well, you look like Jon Snow,” he said, in his subtle Southern drawl, “but you look happy so you can’t be Jon Snow.” Jon scowled at that, and Grenn roared with laughter. “That’s more like it.”

“You’ve seen me smile before,” he said sullenly, dropping into a chair next to Grenn’s desk. “You’ve even seen me laugh before.”

“Smiling and laughing is not necessarily the same as being happy,” he replied wisely before giving Jon a considering look. “It looks good on you. What’s got you happy? Hot date?”

Panic shot through Jon as that was _exactly_ why he was happy. Well, maybe not exactly, because they never actually _said_ it was a date, but he was doing date-like activities with the man he had been in love with for nearly all his life so it probably counted. Shit, how did he go from determined to stay avoid Robb to giddily agreeing to go on a date with him?

“Sorry I asked,” Grenn grumbled with a roll of his eyes, breaking through Jon’s thoughts. “I forgot you avoid happiness like most people avoid the plague.”

“I do _not_ avoid happiness,” Jon argued weakly.

“Sure you don’t,” he agreed blandly before changing the subject. “So what is the newest homicide detective want in our neck of the woods?”

“Looking for links between Petyr Baelish and our victim,” he replied, getting down to business. “We had a tip that suggested Baelish might be involved in the murder.”

“Who’s the victim?”

“Jon Arryn.”

Grenn shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Who gave you the tip?”

“Tywin Lannister,” Jon answered. “Arryn’s business partner.”

“Now that name I know!” he said triumphantly. “That man is dirtier than two tick mud-wrestling in an outhouse.” He glanced up at Jon and laughed at his bewildered expression.

“You know, I’m convinced that you make up sayings like that just so you can see my face when you say them,” Jon told him. “I don’t believe they actually say things like that anywhere.”

Grenn shrugged unapologetically. “They probably said them somewhere at sometime. But back to Lannister. Come on, I’ll get you all the files we have on him and set you up in the conference room. If he was your victim’s business partner, some of his seedier business partners might have been involved in his death. And I’m pretty sure one of those partners is Baelish.”

A few moments later, Jon was following Grenn into a conference room carrying a rather large box of files. “I don’t get it,” he said, the both of them dropping their boxes on the table. “If you’ve got so much stuff on Lannister, why not bring him in?”

The other detective scoffed. “We can’t make a case airtight enough to keep the bastard’s fancy lawyers from poking holes in it. If he think we’re on to him, he flies off to some country we can’t extradite him from and keeps on running his criminal enterprise. Better to wait and build our case.”

Jon nodded before looking at the boxes in front of him. “I think I’m going to have a long day ahead of me.”

Grenn snorted. “You get through all of this today, and I will be shocked.”

The other detective left him alone with the files after that, and he was right. Jon wasn’t nowhere near being done by the time six o’clock came around. Figuring the rest of the files could wait for tomorrow, and both excited and dreading his date with Robb, he left the station and headed for the car.

A large black town car was parked on the curb in front of Yoren’s car, but he paid it no mind. Large town cars weren’t that rare in lower Manhattan. He was just walking past it when the window rolled down.

“Detective Snow.”

He jerked his head to stare at the man who called his name, hand reaching for his gun automatically. He relaxed slightly as he recognized the man in the car.

“Tyrion Lannister.”

The short man smiled at him. “And here I was afraid you wouldn’t remember me.” Jon wondered if anyone really forgot someone like Tyrion Lannister, but wasn’t impolite enough to say it. “Won’t you join me? I promise it won’t take but a moment.”

He was a bit leery, but talking to suspicious people _was_ his job, and this man’s father was already on the suspect list. Why not add or eliminate another potential name?

“I take it you’ve just come from the Organized Crime Unit,” Tyrion commented airily after Jon had slid into the plush leather seat next to him in the car. “I imagine my father pointed you in that direction. Tell me, did he tell you that Petyr Baelish killed Jon Arryn or did he blame the Iron-Borns?”

This was the first Jon had heard of the Iron-Borns being involved with Lannister, but he didn’t let it show. “Baelish. Do you think he was lying?”

The dwarf chuckled. “I’ve long since given up trying to tell if something my father said was the truth or a lie.”

“That’s not very helpful for someone like me who’s trying to figure out what the truth is,” Jon pointed out, wondering what kind of game the man was playing.

“No, I can’t imagine that it is,” Tyrion replied with a laugh. “But I do have one truth I think you should know that you won’t find in whatever information your fellow detectives gave you. Petyr Baelish grew up next to family called the Tullys and was apparently very close to the family’s two daughters.”

“I’m sure you have a point,” he said as the man paused for dramatic effect. Tyrion was obviously enjoying himself.

“Come on, Jon, surely you know Catelyn Stark and Lysa Arryn’s maiden names?” he cried.

“So you’re saying Lysa Arryn played a hand in murdering her husband?” Jon asked.

“Of course not. I would never presume to accuse someone without proof,” Tyrion replied indignantly, a shrewd smirk on his lips. “But I’ll also tell you this: the Arryns weren’t the perfect family they appeared to be.”

“Do you enjoy speaking in riddles?” Jon muttered in frustration.

The dwarf just smiled at him. “I do, actually, but I’m not trying to speak in riddles. I just thought that someone who had had your childhood would have taken the hint.”

His blood turned to ice at that. “What?” 

Tyrion gave him a knowing look. “It takes one abuse victim to know another,” he told him wryly. “Besides, I grew up with your foster brother Rhaegar, remember? You didn’t think you were the only victim, did you?”

Jon shook his head slowly, trying to process what the other man was saying. “I know what he did to Viserys and his wife, but I thought that was an isolated incident,” he said woodenly. “He hadn’t touched Dany. I wouldn’t have _let_ him touch Dany.”

Not that his seven-year-old self would have been much use if his foster father had tried to hit his four-year-old foster sister.

Tyrion gave him a rueful smile. “No, he didn’t touch Dany. He didn’t touch any of them after you moved in. You were the compromise that Rhaella made Aerys agree to. Of course, after Rhaella and Viserys died, Rhaegar swooped in to steal Dany away to Europe and left you behind.”

Jon cleared his throat against the lump of emotion that threatened to choke him. “Why are you dragging all this up _now_?” he asked angrily, not wanting to think about his foster family anymore. “This conversation is supposed to be about Jon Arryn.”

“And it is,” Tyrion stated with a sad smile. “You see, Jon Arryn was threatening to take his son away from his wife. And while Lysa Arryn may have loved her husband dearly, she was _obsessed_ with her son.”

“She was abusing him,” he realized, feeling sick at the thought.

“In the worst possible way,” the dwarf replied mournfully. “You and I can be glad that our fathers just beat and tortured us.”

“Aerys Targaryen was _not_ my father,” Jon said firmly, opening the car door. He turned to look at Tyrion before was all the way out the car, though. “But thank you, Tyrion, for telling me this.”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” he told him firmly. “These people don’t like their dirty laundry aired about, you know.”

Jon nodded and got out of the car. Did he ever know.

Just like earlier that day, his phone rang as soon as he had pulled into traffic. “Snow.”

“Detective, the lieutenant told me to call you in to a possible homicide scene,” an unfamiliar female dispatcher informed him.

“What’s the address?” he asked wearily. There went his dinner with Robb. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

Terror welled inside him as he recognized the address.

It was the Stark house.

tbc…


	4. Chapter Four

_An eleven-year-old Jon looked up at the house in trepidation. It wasn’t the largest he had ever seen, nor was it the first time he had to one of the other houses in the neighborhood. There were always the parties that Mr. Targaryen dragged him to, even if they were always boring and he always ended up finding somewhere quiet to sit and be away from everyone._

_It was the first time, though, that any of his classmates had invited him to their home personally._

_Robb grabbed his hand and tugged him forward impatiently. “Come on, Jon!” he cried, a bright smile on his face. “I’ve got to show you the treehouse my dad and me are building!”_

_Jon let his new friend lead him to the house with a small, disbelieving smile. Robb had just moved here this year, and for some reason, had immediately decided to become friends with Jon. Maybe he should have tried to tell him it was a bad idea, because he was nothing while Robb was someone, but it had felt nice to be treated like someone too._

_Of course, then Robb had decided a week later to drag him home with him. Jon was terrified that Robb’s parents would see exactly what he was and tell Robb._

_Then Robb wouldn’t be friends with him anymore, and Jon would go back to sitting alone at lunch, with only Sam Tarly’s company at the opposite end of the long table. Not that Sam was bad or anything. He never said a word to Jon either, though, nose typically buried in a book to avoid the other students around them._

_Robb pulled him inside and let the door slam shut behind them. Jon winced at the sound before cringing as a tall man stepped into the foyer with a deep frown._

_“Robb, how many times do I have to tell you to not slam the door?” the man asked, voice deep and disappointed, but not unkind._

_“Sorry, sir,” Robb said sheepishly before his grin was back. “Dad, this is Jon. He’s the friend from school I was telling you about.” Jon was shocked that Robb had told his father about him but didn’t let it show. “Jon, this is my dad, the General.”_

_He stared at the other man in awe. “You’re a general, sir?”_

_Robb’s father smiled at him and nodded. “Newly retired from the army, but old titles apparently die hard. It’s good to meet you, Jon.”_

_“You too, sir,” he said with a smile._

_“Can Jon stay for dinner?” Robb asked eagerly._

_Jon was overwhelmed by the thought of actually being invited to_ eat _with this family, but before he could protest, General Stark was nodding. “I don’t see why not. As long as your parents are alright with it.”_

_He looked down to his feet in shame, knowing this was the moment he had been dreading. “I don’t have any parents,” Jon admitted in a small voice. “My foster father is in Washington this week, though, so he won’t mind.”_

_He braced himself to see scorn on the face of his friend and his father as he dared to peek up at them, but it wasn’t there. Innocent curiosity shined in Robb’s eyes as he peered back at Jon, while the General’s face conveyed nothing but concern._

_“Who is looking after you then?” he asked gently._

_“Ilyn, Mr. Targaryen’s butler, sir,” Jon answered, trying not to grimace at the name. Ilyn Payne was certainly not as cruel as his master was, but he still wasn’t a very pleasant man to be around._

_General Stark furrowed his brow slightly before his face smoothed into a smile. He placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder and gave it as reassuring squeeze. “Well, from now on, you are always welcome here.”_

 

Jon shook away the memory of his first visit to the Stark house as he approached the house in the present, flashing blue lights surrounding it and making the dark street look harsh and forbidding. He had to focus.

He hadn’t dared called ahead to Yoren to ask the victim’s identity. He couldn’t. It would give him too much time to think about them. To consider the fact that he would never see them again. To remember that he had spent so long away and never contacted _any_ of them, even if they had become the closest thing he had ever known to a family.

With a sick feeling of dread, he put the car in park and approached the house, flashing his badge to the officers on the perimeter as he dunked under the crime scene tape.

The door to the house was open, but in an attempt to stall the inevitable, he glanced around the yard. His stomach twisted as he caught sight of Sansa near the corner of the house, tears streaming down her face as she gave a statement to an officer. She, at least, was safe. And judging by the large, hulking man scowling at her side, Jon was fairly certain she would stay safe for the moment.

He looked back towards the door before he could catch her eye, not wanting to see the grief in them without knowing who she was grieving for.

Was it Arya? The little sister who had always annoyed Sansa but who had latched onto Jon from the first time she saw him, declaring him her other big brother and flaunting all efforts her mother put into making her into a lady.

Or was it one of her brothers? Bran and Rickon both were just boys the last time Jon had saw them, though that was after Bran’s accident. 

He had seen Bran grow more mature as he slowly accepted his paralysis, vowing to never let his disability stop him from doing all the things he wanted to do. Jon was fairly sure Bran joined nearly every wheelchair sports league he could find, to the ultimate chagrin of his mother, who was always afraid of him being hurt worse.

And little Rickon. Always quick with a smile and a laugh, always wanting to make sure that everyone was taken care of, that no one was sad. So much like Robb…

Jon’s mind balked at the idea of Robb being dead and quickly moved on to the other potential victims.

Maybe it was Sansa’s father. General Eddard Stark was one of the greatest and kindest men Jon had ever known, not to mention the strongest. It was hard to imagine such a great man dead.

It could also be her mother. The stone-faced Catelyn Stark who had always disdained Jon, but never so much as when she found him naked in bed with Robb. Jon was sure some would tell him that out of all the possible victims he could find, her death would hurt the least, but they would be wrong. Jon knew Catelyn’s death would be a dagger in the hearts of her husband and her children. Seeing their pain would kill Jon.

Steeling himself, he walked inside.

The body wasn’t far from the door and lying face down in a large pool of blood. She had been stabbed in the back once, though from the amount of blood soaking her sweating and seeping to the floor, Jon would say that the knife probably missed her heart. She had probably had a slow death, bleeding out on the floor.

But Jon didn’t care about any of that. Not in that moment at least. His relief was far too great, even if that made him a terrible person.

Because she wasn’t a Stark. He had forgotten that there was another person staying with at the Stark house.

“Any of your leads give you a clue as to who would have wanted to kill Lysa Arryn as well as her husband?” Yoren asked him, stepping around the body and closer to Jon.

“You really think the same person killed them?” he said incredulously, still in a state of relieved shock. It was a struggle to remain composed. “The MOs are completely different.”

Yoren shrugged. “Both are underhanded ways to kill someone. Poison and literally stabbing them in the back.”

“Maybe Lysa knew who killed her husband and he wanted to keep her quiet,” Jon suggested, trying to focus.

“Could be,” the lieutenant agreed. “Or maybe Lysa killed her husband and someone was pissed about it. This is either going to complicate things or make the killer easier to find.”

“Who found her?” 

“Her niece. The redhead we saw the other day,” Yoren told him, waving vaguely towards the door. “I’ve got an officer taking her statement.”

“Where’s the rest of the family?” Jon asked urgently, needing to know the others were safe as well.

“The youngest boy is out-of-state at college, finishing up his final exams before the funeral,” he replied. “The other kids have all got their own places scattered about the city. The redhead—”

“Sansa,” Jon supplied absently.

“Right, Sansa,” Yoren nodded. “She’d only moved back home recently, after her divorce.”

His head jerked in surprised at that. He hadn’t known Sansa had gotten married, let alone that she was divorced! He had missed so much…

_Well, what did you expect?_ a nasty voice in his head asked. _You chose yourself over them and left. Of course, they were going to keep living their lives without you._

“Sansa said her parents were having dinner with her aunt. Father’s sister,” Yoren added. “Apparently she flew in after she heard about Arryn’s death. Lysa begged off of dinner, saying she had a headache. Sansa was coming home after dinner with friends and found her.”

Poor Sansa. Out of all the Stark children, she had been the only one who had actively sought out their Aunt Lysa’s company. She had taken her mother and aunt’s words as law when she was younger, which was probably why Jon hadn’t thought she liked him very much.

“Did any of the neighbors see anything?” he asked.

Yoren shook his head. “Nothing, but the walls around the house keep a lot of it from the view of the other houses. Probably to deter nosy neighbors. Nobody thinks that nosy neighbors might be a good thing when bad things happen.”

Jon didn’t react to that. On another day, it might have drawn a chuckle or an amused snort from him, but he felt to emotionally drained at the moment. The scare from earlier followed by the overwhelming relief had left him in an odd, numb state.

“She must have known her attack,” he remarked, stating at the bloody body with unseeing eyes. “She turned her back on him.”

“Or she tried to run,” Yoren pointed out.

He shook his head. “No, look at how she fell,” he told him. “One arm at her side and the other beneath her. If she had been trying to get away, her arms would have been reaching forward. And nothing’s disturbed.”

The lieutenant furrowed his brow. “So what? The doorbell rings, her killer’s at the door, she lets him in, and he stabs her in the back? There’s probably only a short list of people who a woman like that would let in without question.”

Jon sighed. “It might be short list, but it’s not going to be an easy one to narrow down,” he warned him. “These people always have an agenda, and I doubt any of them care if the real killer is caught.”

 

#

 

By the time he got back to his apartment building, it was only 8:17, which was surprising to Jon, because it honestly felt like days had gone by since he was at the Organized Crime Unit. He had tried to call Robb as soon as he had left the crime scene, leaving the car for Yoren, who said he would overlook the processing, but it had gone straight to voicemail.

Considering what had just happened to Lysa Arryn, Jon was out of his mind with worry, but there was nothing he could do. He had no idea where Robb lived now. Or where he worked. Or anything about him, really. 

And Sansa had long since left the scene by the time Jon left so he couldn’t even ask her.

This was his own fault, he knew, hating himself with every stair he climbed to his apartment. He was the one who had cut them out of his life. It had been his choice, and he hadn’t had the courage to make the right one.

So now Robb was who knows where with someone who had already killed two members of his family on the loose.

He shook his head, trying to be reasonable as he turned to climb the final flight of stairs. Sansa had surely called her parents, and he had never seen any two people more fiercely protective of their children as Eddard and Catelyn Stark. They would hunt down Robb if they didn’t hear from him.

Besides, Robb was _fine_. Whatever the Arryns had been into that had gotten them killed, Jon knew Robb would never have gotten involved.

With that comforting thought not really giving him much comfort, he finally reached his landing and turned towards his apartment.

Jon stopped dead, though, as he caught sight of the figure leaning against the wall near his door.

Robb smiled brightly at him, taking his silence as surprise. “I promise I’m not stalking you, though I admit, waiting by your door like a stalker is a little suspicious. But we did say 8, and my phone died so I couldn’t call you so—”

Jon cut him off by walking forward purposefully and wrapping his arms tightly around him, burying his face in the other man’s neck.

“Jon?” he asked in concern, arms coming up to return the embrace. One hand carded gently through his curls, and Jon choked back a sob at the tender touch.

Deep down, he had already begun forming the terrifying belief that Robb was dead.

“Jon, please, what’s wrong?” Robb asked, tightening his arms around him. Jon nearly laughed at the gesture. Robb always did that when he was upset. Almost like he believed that if he squeezed tight enough, whatever was upsetting Jon would be squeezed out and be gone forever.

“I’m sorry,” he said, knowing he was being ridiculous and pulling away. Robb caught his hands, though, and didn’t let him go far. “It’s just…” Jon widened his eyes as he realized Robb didn’t know. “God, Robb, I’m sorry. I just got back from your house. Your Aunt Lysa… She was murdered.”

Robb looked shocked. “My parents and Sansa?”

He shook his head. “They’re fine. Sansa found her. Your parents were at dinner with your Aunt Lyanna.”

He sagged in relief. “Good. I mean, not good that Aunt Lysa is dead,” he added quickly. “But at least everyone else is okay.” Robb looked at him with understanding in his eyes. “That’s why you were upset. Because you couldn’t reach me and was worried.”

“Yeah, well, next time charge your phone,” he tried to tease but it came out strangled. Robb stepped close, dropping Jon’s hands to bring his own up to frame his face. Jon shuddered at the intimate gesture. “I got the call about a homicide at your house. I didn’t know who the victim was until I got there,” he admitted, tears he had been fighting for what felt like three days suddenly blurring his vision.

“Jon,” Robb murmured, brushing a kiss to his forehead before pulling him into another tight embrace. “We’re all okay. I’m fine. My family’s fine. You’re fine. And we’re all going to stay that way.”

He scoffed even as he leaned heavily into Robb’s body. “Except for the Arryns,” he couldn’t help but point out.

“Let’s get inside,” Robb said instead of answering. “You’ve had an exhausting day. We’ll order Chinese and watch terrible movies, just like old times.”

Jon looked up at him, giving him a rueful smile. “I don’t really feel like having our conversation tonight.”

The other man just shook his head. “That can wait. I just want to spend time with you tonight.”

“You should be with your family,” he protested weakly.

Robb smiled down at him. “I am.”

tbc…


	5. Chapter Five

Jon had expected things to be awkward between him and Robb, but that notion was quickly dispelled as soon as they were inside his apartment. He supposed that was to be expected. It was always easy with Robb. Jon had always been able to shed his worries and fears around Robb, even if those worries and fears sometimes revolved _around_ Robb.

They had kept conversation light while they were waiting for their food to arrive, something Jon was grateful for. Now, mostly empty Chinese food cartons littered the coffee table as _Super Mario Bros._ played on the television screen, neither of them having felt like getting up to throw them away after finishing eating.

“This movie is awful,” Robb said halfway, the rumbling of his voice jarring Jon slightly from where he leant against him on the couch.

Jon craning his neck to look up at him in mock scorn. “You take that back, Robb Stark,” he demanded sternly. “This movie is fantastic!”

Robb snorted. “Fantastically awful. The devolve gun is a painted Super Soaker. And they named the character Mario Mario.”

“Of course they did!” Jon cried, twisting his entire body so that he could fully face Robb and ended up practically lying on top of him. “It’s the _Mario_ _brothers_!” he continued to argue, ignoring their new position. “That means that both their last names are Mario, but we know that his first name is also Mario so his name _has_ to be Mario Mario.”

“Oh, it _has_ to be, huh?” Robb asked sarcastically. “Just like the scenery _has_ to match the scenery in the game. Now which Super Mario game was it that was set in a creepy version of New York?”

He gave him a disdainful look. “I think that one was only released in Japan,” he remarked airily.

Robb burst out laughing at that, dropping his head onto Jon’s shoulder as he shook with mirth. Jon felt a thrill of satisfaction go through him at the sound. He had missed Robb’s laugh. There hadn’t been a lot of laughter in his life before or since Robb.

“My apologies,” Robb said a little breathlessly once he got himself under control. He raised his head to look at Jon, eyes still sparkling in amusement. “I’m not as well versed as you in video games.”

Jon’s breath caught in his throat as he met Robb’s eyes, barely suppressing a shudder as he realized that, somehow, Robb’s arms had found their way around his waist so that the other man was lounging on the couch while holding Jon on top of him. The sudden darkening of Robb’s eyes told him that he wasn’t the only one who had become aware of their position.

He licked his lips as his eyes darted down to Robb’s lips, wanting nothing more than to capture them with his own. Shit, how long had it been since he’d kissed anyone?

“Jon,” Robb murmured, one hand coming up to bury themselves in his curls. He smiled a bit at that. Robb always had liked his curls.

The smile disappeared, though, as he remembered why this was a bad idea.

“We shouldn’t,” he told him, but didn’t move away.

“Why not?” he asked seriously, not like he was challenging Jon but like he genuinely wanted to know the answer.

_Because I don’t deserve you_ ,” he wanted to tell him. _Because you deserve better_.

Before he could say anything, though, Robb’s phone ringing startled them both.

Robb frowned over at his phone, where it was sitting on Jon’s kitchen counter plugged into Jon’s charger. “Ignore it,” he said, looking back at Jon.

He shook his head. “It might be your parents,” he told him, sheepishly realizing that Robb hadn’t told any of his family where he was. He carefully shifted out of Robb’s arms to sit on the couch. “They’re probably worried about you because of the Arryns and all.”

Suddenly, Jon felt like an awful person for getting lost in Robb and forgetting that two people had been murdered.

Robb sighed, but got up anyway. The phone had already stopped ringing by the time he got to it, but he picked it up and dialed whoever it was back.

“Mom?” he said into the phone as Jon began gathering their takeout cartons up to throw away. “I’m fine. I’m with Jon.”

Jon winced. Great. Another reason for Catelyn Stark to hate him. He stood up with their trash and walked to the garbage can in the kitchen. He could hear Robb’s mother’s muffled voice going on about something, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. Probably for the best, he decided.

“Mom, I can take care of myself,” Robb said, rolling his eyes fondly at Jon. “You know, I did survive a couple of tours in Afghanistan. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Jon’s heart skipped a beat at that, and he turned away from Robb to hide the sickening horror he was sure was painted all over his face. He didn’t know why he was so shocked. He had _known_ that Robb was headed to West Point after high school. He _knew_ Robb had followed in his father’s footsteps and enlisted in the Army.

Why hadn’t he connected that fact with the fact that they were fighting a _fucking war_ in the Middle East? He should’ve made the connection before they even graduated from high school, for fuck’s sake!

_Are you really that surprised?_ the mean little voice in his head asked. _You were so fucking selfish and self-centered then. You don’t deserve him._

“Do you have enough room there?” Robb was asking. “Some of you can stay at my place if you want.” There was a pause. “Okay, hold on. Jon?” he called, startling him out of his brooding.

Jon schooled his features into something hopefully resembling neutral before turning around. The furrowing of Robb’s brow told him that he missed neutral by quite a bit.

“Mother wants to know if you know how long it will be before they’ll have the house back?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

Jon couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to go back to a house where their sister was murdered, but he had never really had a permanent home before. Hell, even after living in his current apartment for nearly three years, half of his belongings were still packed away in boxes. Maybe it was something he would never understand.

“CSI will go through the house a few times to make sure they didn’t miss anything,” he answered with a shrug. “They’ll probably clear out in three or four days though. There are companies you can hire to clean up.”

Robb nodded and relayed the message back to his mother. “Listen, I’ll see you all tomorrow, okay? Love you,” he told her, giving her just enough time to say it back before hanging up on her. He gave Jon a knowing look. “Alright, what’s going on in your head?”

Jon frowned and turned his head to stare at the paused TV screen. How did Robb still know him so well? “You should probably be with your family,” he said, side-stepping the question. “And don’t be sappy and say I’m your family,” he added testily. “I left, remember? I left and I didn’t speak to you or anyone for ten years. I don’t deserve your forgiveness for that.”

Robb reached out for him, but Jon shied away. “Jon, I don’t blame you for that,” he told him earnestly. “I understand.”

“You _don’t_ ,” he insisted, turning so that his back was to Robb. Maybe if he couldn’t see the other man’s face, his heart would only break in two instead of into a million little pieces. “You should go,” he whispered, voice thick with tears he wouldn’t let fall.

“Jon, don’t make me leave you like this,” Robb pleaded, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. “We don’t have to talk about it or even think about it. Just… let me stay. Please. It’d kill me to walk out the door and leave you like this.”

Jon choked on a sob, and was instantly pulled into Robb’s comforting embrace at the sound. He tried to resist but his heart wasn’t in it, and he eventually melted into Robb’s hold, tears soaking the other man’s chest.

Why did Robb have to be so damn _perfect_? The asshole was comforting him when Jon had been trying to push him away. How could he ever in a million years deserve him?

“Come on,” Robb murmured, leading him back to the couch. “Let’s finish the movie.”

Jon let Robb maneuver them on the couch so that they were both lying down, Robb squished against the back of the couch with his head propped up on a pillow wedged into the corner of the arm of the sofa and Jon with his back to Robb’s chest, a pillow under his head and Robb’s arm keeping him in place.

“Can you even see the movie?” he grumbled, far from dissatisfied from their position even if he still didn’t think he deserved to be tucked so snugly against Robb’s body.

“I can see just fine,” Robb answered, dropping a kiss to the top of his head and pressing play before Jon could protest the gesture.

Despite his resolve to not get comfortable and to kick Robb out right after the movie ended, Jon felt his eyelids grow heavy not long after the movie started playing again. With how emotionally exhausting the night had been, it really shouldn’t have surprised him that sleep claimed him shortly afterwards.

 

_Jon gasped breathlessly as Robb flicked his tongue over his nipple. The other boy smirked up at him at the soft sound and did it again. “Robb…” he groaned. He arched up, desperate for friction, but his boyfriend pulled away with a chuckle._

_“Uh uh, I’m supposed to be exploring, remember?” Robb teased, nipping at the pout on Jon’s lips. “Fair is fair, after all. And after you tortured me last night, I think I’m entitled to a little revenge.”_

_Jon sighed as Robb moved down his chest again, hands roaming as his lips closed around a nipple. “I don’t recall you complaining,” he panted._

_He felt more than saw Robb’s smile. “Well, I—”_

_They were interrupted by the door flying open, Catelyn Stark standing there, face pale and eyes wide._

_“Cat?” the General’s voice called from somewhere behind her before Ned Stark appeared next to her. “Oh.”_

_Jon could only stare at the two in horror and mortification as Robb scrambled to cover them both with the sheets. They weren’t supposed to be back. They were supposed to be gone all weekend. Robb and he were supposed to be_ alone _._

_Oh, God, they were going to hate him. He’d never be allowed in the house again. Robb would be forbidden from even speaking to him. All of the Stark children probably would be. The closest thing he had ever had to a family was going to be lost to him._

_He vaguely heard the General tell Robb to get dressed before the door shut, giving them a small bit of privacy, even if he was sure Robb’s parents were waiting just outside the door for him._

_“Hey, calm down,” Robb murmured, taking Jon’s face in both his hands and looking at him seriously. “It’s going to be okay.”_

_“Your parents…”_

_“Don’t get to tell me who to love,” he insisted, giving Jon a light peck on the lips. “I love_ you _, Jon, and nothing is ever going to change that. Understand?”_

_He nodded faintly. “I love you, too.”_

_Robb gave him a soft smile before climbing off the bed and fumbling for his clothes. Jon did the same, tugging on his discarded boxers and jeans before pulling a shirt over his head._

_Robb gave him one last gentle kiss. “Don’t leave, okay? I’ll come back after the General is done lecturing me. Don’t worry,” he added, grinning at him. “There’s nothing he can say that can change my mind about us.”_

_Jon nodded once more and watched Robb leave before sitting down on the bed to wait. He was surprised when a sharp knock sounded at the door and Catelyn walked in without waiting for an answer._

_“Good, you’re decent,” she said tersely, leaving Jon to wonder what exactly she would have done if he_ hadn’t _been. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ve tolerated you for over six year now, even though I knew Robb’s association with you gave him absolutely no benefit or advantage,” she continued haughtily. “I’ve even let you have the full-run of my house, letting my husband and other children dote on you as if you were actually a member of the family. I’ve said nothing as you sat at my table and ate my family’s food. But no more.”_

_Jon felt his heart sink at the words. He had known that the Stark matriarch had never liked him, and he wasn’t really surprised at her reaction, but that didn’t mean it didn’t break his heart to know he was being banished from the Stark house._

_“You will_ not _ruin my son’s life,” she stated with finality._

_“I don’t want to ruin his life,” Jon told her sincerely. “I_ love _him.”_

_Catelyn scoffed at that. “What do either of you know about love? You’re seventeen. Love didn’t bring you together, hormones did,” she replied in disdain. “Robb is going to West Point. I’m not going to let some nameless foster kid ruin his career!”_

 

Jon’s eyes snapped open at that, breath coming in harsh pants as the remnants of the memory replayed themselves in his head. It took him a minute to get his bearings as someone mumbled something in his ear and an arm tightened around his waist. 

He turned his head to see a sleeping Robb next to him, propped awkwardly against the back of the couch. He frowned. That couldn’t be comfortable. Deciding the other man would be more comfortable without him crowding him on the couch, Jon carefully extracted himself from the arm around him, ignoring Robb’s noise of protest.

With one last look of regret towards the couch, Jon made his way to his own cold bed.

tbc…


	6. Chapter Six

_“Jon, I don’t understand,” Robb said, denial in his eyes. “We said we were in this together.”_

_He made himself to hold Robb’s gaze. If he was going to do this, he deserved to see what his cowardice was doing to the man he loved. “Robb, you’re going to West Point next year,” he pointed out, using Catelyn’s words as an excuse. “I would only hold your military career back.”_

_“I don’t care about that!” he cried vehemently. “I care about_ you _. I haven’t accepted West Point yet. I can still go to another school. The General even approves! He told me if I made you happy, then I shouldn’t let anything stand in our way! And you_ do _make me happy, Jon!”_

_Jon swallowed thickly at that, glancing up at the Stark house to avoid looking at Robb. “You shouldn’t give up your dream for me.”_

_“You think the army is my dream?” he asked incredulously. “You know I only applied to West Point because my father wanted me to! Jon, what’s really wrong?”_

_He bit his lip. He couldn’t tell him he was afraid. Robb wouldn’t understand. Or worse, he might try and protect him. There was no way that would end well._

_“We can’t be together anymore,” he whispered instead. “I’m sorry.”_

 

The sun hadn’t quite risen yet when he woke up from yet another memory-filled dream. He sighed as he sat up in bed, scrubbing the sleep away from his face with his hands. He had to stop thinking about the past.

He snorted, remembering that Robb was currently asleep on his couch. It was probably easier to forget about the past when it wasn’t sleeping over at your apartment.

It took his sleep-fogged head longer than it should have to realize that it wasn’t the dream that had woken him up. His phone was buzzing incessantly on his nightstand.

“Snow,” he answered quietly, not wanting to disturb Robb in the next room.

“Jon, you need to get to the station,” Yoren told him without preamble. “The upper brass ordered Sansa Stark to be brought in on suspicion.”

“What?” Jon snapped, instantly alert. The absurdity of _Sansa_ being brought in on suspicion of murder was inconceivable. Arya, Jon might could see, but _Sansa_? “Why?”

“Jon, just come in, okay? She knows you. She might open up to you,” he said instead of answering.

“Open up to me about _what_?” he demanded to know. “Yoren, she couldn’t have done this!”

“You haven’t seen her in ten years,” Yoren reminded him. “Now, I don’t want to take you off this case, but if you can’t be impartial, I’ll have to.”

Jon scowled, carefully packing his anger. It wouldn’t do him any good. “Is her family there?” he asked, forcing his voice to be calm.

“Yeah, and so is her lawyer,” he replied. “Get here quick, okay?”

“Shit,” he cursed as he hung up the phone, throwing his covers off and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. How had everything get so out of hand? He had been put on the case to consult on the upper echelons of society that he had grown up with. Now he was being called in to interrogate a girl he had grown up with while her brother slept on his couch.

Even without his stupid emotional baggage, this was getting complicated.

“Everything okay?” Robb’s groggy voice started him, and his head jerked up to see the other man leaning heavily against his bedroom doorjamb. 

Jon frowned, having been counting on having a few minutes to figure out how to break the news to Robb. The man had used to sleep like a rock in high school. He hadn’t expected him to wake up on his own.

“Jon?” he prompted, a little more alert and with a note of concern in his voice.

“Um, my…” he paused for a moment, not entirely sure what to call Yoren. He wasn’t really his partner or his lieutenant. He wasn’t his anything, really. Jon was just on loan from vice, and no matter what Yoren had told him, he was sure he was going to be shipped back there after this case was over. “Partner,” he finally settled on, figuring it was just easier for the moment. “He just called. He needs me to come in.”

Robb furrowed his brow and squinted at the clock on Jon’s nightstand. “It’s not even 5 A.M.!” he cried before looking a bit hopeful. “Does that mean they have a lead on the murders?”

Jon winced. “I don’t think they do,” he said evasively. “I know the suspect they brought in didn’t do it.”

“How?” he asked in confusion.

He took a breath to steady himself before he answered, “Because it’s Sansa.”

 

#

 

All things considered, Robb took Sansa being in custody fairly well. Jon had been half afraid that the other man would blame _him._ He wouldn’t blame him if he did. If nothing else, Jon should have realized that Sansa, as the one who had found Lysa’s body, would be scrutinized. He should have at least prepared them for this possibility. Or maybe pushed harder for Robb to go be with his family so that he could be there with them right now.

Still, if Robb hadn’t been there, Jon wouldn’t have a ride to the precinct, and it would have taken him much longer to get to the 19th.

Yoren was waiting for him apparently, because he swooped in and pulled Jon away from Robb as soon as they stepped inside. Jon glanced back to see Robb frowning after him even as he was flocked by his family. He quickly looked away before any of the other Starks could catch his eye, not wanting to see any blame in them.

“You know, you’re not doing yourself any favors by showing up with the suspect’s _brother_ ,” the lieutenant snapped grumpily, pulling him into his office.

Jon scowled. “Well, I was only brought in because I knew them, right?” he retorted hotly before he could stop himself. He wanted to take the words back as soon as they had left his mouth. He knew better than to question his superiors.

Yoren, however, snorted. “You’ve got a point, but you’ve got to be careful now,” he warned. “Nobody cared too much if an 80 year old man dropped dead, even if he was poisoned. Old men died all the time. But Lysa Arryn being stabbed in the back changed things. If the upper brass gets wind that you’re a little too close to these people, they’ll have you consulting from a desk, or worse, send you back to vice.”

“Commissioner Mormont is the one who assigned me to the case!” he protested.

“Maybe, but there’s a lot of politically motivated people in the ranks between us and Mormont, who all want to _seem_ like they know what they’re doing,” he replied sardonically. “Case in point, Captain Alliser Thorne has been brought in to oversee the investigation,” Yoren spat in distaste. “He’s the one who ordered two of _my_ detectives to bring Sansa Stark in for interrogation in the middle of the damn night.”

“Why?” Jon demands to know.

Yoren turns with a sigh and grabs a folder off his desk before thrusting it into Jon’s hands, leaning back against the desk as he nodded at the file. “The big guy with Sansa at the scene last night? Sandor Clegane.”

Jon quickly glanced through the file, noting a mugshot of the man clipped to the front cover. He hadn’t noticed last night how menacing the scarred face could look when combined with the man’s glare. He also noticed that, although there were clearly a lot of run in with the police and suspicions of violent tendencies, the only charges he had ever been convicted of were petty property crimes over a decade ago.

Under “known associates” though, there was a name Jon recognized only because of the given street name. Gregor “The Mountain” Clegane.

Shit. Sansa was dating the fucking _Mountain’s_ brother?

The Mountain was a terrifying legend in vice. He was a brutal hitman for anyone with enough money and enough bravery to hire. Jon heard that he was crushed a man’s head _with his bare hands_.

“Eddison Tollet and Tormund Hornblower are the detectives that brought her in,” Yoren told him. “They’re good men so don’t blame them for following orders. They haven’t been able to get anything from her though. She refuses to talk about either Clegane brother. We both know that it looks more suspicious if she says nothing.”

Jon shut the file with a snap. “Take me to her.”

Yoren nodded, leading him to the interrogation room. Jon walked in to see two detectives, presumably Tollet and Hornblower, facing off against Sansa and a smartly-clad woman with slanting eyes that looked at him sharply as soon as he walked in.

“I”m told you, I don’t—Jon!” Sansa cried in surprise, making to stand but the woman next to her placed a hand on her arm to keep her seated. “Jon, tell them I didn’t do anything!”

“Detectives, can I have some time alone with Ms. Stark and her attorney?” he asked politely, grateful when they filed out of the room, even though he knew they could still see and hear everything. He stepped closer to the table Sansa was sitting at and dropped into the chair across from her. He spared a glance at her lawyer before he did a double-take, realizing he knew her.

“Margaery,” he greeted with an awkward nod. It was hard to forget the girl who had mooned after your boyfriend all throughout high school.

She surprised him by grinning at him. “Jon Snow,” she greeted coyly. “It’s good to see you.”

“Jon, I didn’t hurt Uncle Jon or Aunt Lysa!” Sansa insisted, drawing his attention back to her.

“I know,” he replied sincerely. “Listen, they brought you in so they can look like they’re doing something.”

“But why _me_?” she asked desperately.

“Because you were seen with Sandor Clegane shortly after you found your aunt’s body,” he answered seriously. “How do you know him?”

Sansa scowled and leaned back with her arms folded over her chest. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Jon wanted to growl in frustration as the patented stubborn-Stark stare settled on her face. “Sansa, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Margaery glanced at her client. “Sansa, you don’t have anything to hide, and you know Jon will make sure your family doesn’t find out before you’re ready to tell them.”

He shifted uneasily, not sure if he wanted to commit to keeping something from Robb. _Oh, cause you’ve been_ so _honest with him so far_ , the mean voice in his head sneered.

He pushed the thought away. “Sansa, I promise you we won’t tell your family anything you don’t want us to that doesn’t relate to your aunt and uncle’s deaths. We’re just trying to find out the truth.”

She narrowed her eyes, looking between the two of them for a long moment before she sagged forward in defeat. “Tyrion Lannister hired Sandor to protect me in case Joffrey ever came after me. We’ve become… close… since then.”

Jon couldn’t help but start at the name Tyrion Lannister. Was it just a coincidence his name was coming up after he had pulled Jon aside yesterday to talk?

“Why would Joffrey come after you?” he asked. “And why would Tyrion pay to protect you?”

Sansa gave him a sad smile. “I forgot you weren’t around to see me and Joffrey get married,” she said regretfully. “You didn’t miss much, seeing as how we were barely married for a year, but he was very… violent… during that year.” 

Jon’s hands tightened into fists at that, wanting to hunt down the blond bastard for daring to hurt Robb’s little sister.

She sighed heavily. “Tyrion and his wife Shae helped me get away, and Sandor threatened Joffrey to stay away. None of my family knows any of that, though. They just know we got divorced.” She snorted humorlessly. “Mother keeps asking me to at least _try_ to put on a friendly face around Joffrey in public, and keep getting angry when I refuse.” She sniffled at that, one tear escaping her eye to roll down her cheek before she angrily wiped it away. “You can’t tell them, Jon.”

He reluctantly nodded. “I won’t, but you have to tell me honestly—do you think any of them, Clegane, Tyrion, Shae, or Joffrey, would have had a reason to kill your aunt and uncle?”

“I’ve barely seen any of them _talk_ to either my aunt or uncle except for the odd occasion where they were forced to acknowledge each other,” she told him with a shake of her head. “Why would they kill them?”

“Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to kill either of them?” he asked.

“I told the other cops I didn’t know,” she replied with another shake of her head. “Aunt Lysa wasn’t the most pleasant of people, but someone would have to be pretty crazy to kill her for being a self-righteous gossip. And Uncle Jon was kind to everyone. I don’t know why anyone would want to kill him.”

Jon sighed. “Seems like nobody knows.”

Margaery cleared her throat. “Detective,” she said, putting on her lawyer-voice and giving him a wink. “Since you obviously don’t have probable cause to arrest my client, is she free to go?”

Jon frowned. He really didn’t have the authority to make that call, but before he could answer, Yoren poked his head through the door. “She is,” the lieutenant answered for him. “Jon, why don’t you show them to the door?”

Sansa looked visibly relieved as she let Margaery and Jon lead her to where her family was waiting in the lobby.

“Sansa!” Catelyn was the first to spot them, striding over confidently and pulling her oldest daughter into a tight hug. “Oh, darling, are you already?”

Jon didn’t hear her response because a sharp punch to his shoulder drew his attention away. He turned to see Arya Stark, all grown up but still considerably shorter than him, glaring up at him. 

“Where the hell have you been all these years?” she demanded to know, narrowing her eyes.

“Arya, that is no way to speak to Jon after he’s finally come home to us,” Ned Stark remarked mildly, turning warm eyes to Jon and giving him a smile. “It’s good to see you, son.”

Jon heart clenched at the paternal look the General was giving him, welcoming him home like the fucking prodigal son. Honestly, he could understand and appreciate Arya’s anger more than he could the General’s approving smile.

“Jon!” Bran greeted, wheelchair skidding to a stop before him as the younger man grinned up at him. “Where have you been?” he asked, unknowingly echoing his sister’s question, but with much more genuine curiosity and a lot less hostility. 

“Stop pestering Jon, brats,” Robb ordered, saving Jon from answering the tough question. “He’s here now, and that’s what matters.”

“Ned, we should get Sansa home,” Catelyn butted in, not even glancing at Jon. “This has been a trying ordeal for her.”

The General nodded before smiling at Jon. “It was good seeing you, son. This time, you’ll keep in touch.”

Arya scowled at him, telling Jon that it was going to take a lot more to get back in her good graces, while Bran just gave him a smile small and wheeled after his mother dutifully.

Robb looked torn between following them and staying with Jon.

Jon gave him a tired smile. “Go with then. I’ve got work to do.”

He didn’t look happy but he smiled, leaning it for a quick hug and brushing a kiss against his cheek as he pulled away. “I’ll call you.”

Jon tried not to let himself think about the promise in that statement. He knew he was slowly slipping back into his old relationships, but he didn’t know what to do about it.

And though he wasn’t sure if he deserved any of them, he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to lose them again, either.

tbc…


	7. Chapter Seven

With the murder of Lysa Arryn, the murder investigation had, as Yoren had alluded, caught the attention of those higher up in the chain of command, which meant an official team was formed. Yoren retained his place as head of the investigation, but Jon was sure his place was now tenuous at best.

Which was confirmed when Captain Thorne pulled him aside after everyone had been brought up to speed.

“I’m watching you, Snow,” he sneered quietly, giving Jon a look that spoke of his utter contempt for the young detective. “After that little stunt you pulled in springing the Stark girl, you’re skating on thin ice. One more wrong move, and I’ll have you transferred to Captain Slynt’s unit in vice, and you’ll be put so deep undercover that you’ll never see the light of day again.”

Jon kept his gaze steady and his face impassive. “Yes, sir.”

Thorne narrowed his eyes at him before making a noise of disgust and walking away. Tollet and Hornblower caught his eye after he had left and made their way over.

“Eddison Tollet,” the lean brunet said by way of introduction, giving Jon a wry smile. “But call me Edd. This here is Tormund. What’d you do to piss off the good captain?” he asked, nodding towards where Thorne was currently stalking out of the bullpen.

“I think he’s upset that Sansa Stark didn’t end up being a killer,” Jon answered mildly.

Tormund snorted. “Men like him have no instinct when it comes to investigations.”

“Well, those that can, do, and those that can’t, supervise,” Eddison said sagely. Tormund guffawed loudly, but Jon just chuckled weakly, Thorne’s words still echoing in his head.

“Alright, ladies, enough gossiping,” Yoren interrupted, walking up and nodding to Jon. “You’re with me, Snow.”

He furrowed his brow. “I thought I was going back to Organized Crime to comb through their files?”

“Tollet and Hornblower will handle that,” he told him. “You’re coming with me to interview Petyr Baelish.”

Edd wrinkled his nose. “Just what I wanted to do today,” he said sarcastically. “Go through a bunch of files looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“A needle would be easier to find,” Tormund grumbled. “You can’t set the files on fire and find a suspect and motive.”

Jon smirked at them before following Yoren to the car. While he may not be entirely comfortable with going to interrogate Baelish directly, he was more than okay with not going through the mountain of files Grenn had given him yesterday.

Yoren raised a brow at him as soon as he got in the car. “You look tense. Thought you vice types were used to talking with scum like Baelish.”

He shot him a glare. “I worked undercover for vice. Being in front of someone like Baelish with him knowing I’m a cop is pretty much the stuff of nightmares when you work undercover.”

“You ever go undercover to investigate Baelish?” he asked.

Jon shook his head. “No.”

“Good,” Yoren replied. “Did you find any connection between Baelish and Jon Arryn yesterday?”

“Not in the files I looked over,” he answered, before remembering his surprising conversation with Tyrion Lannister. “I did learn about a connection between Lysa Arryn and Baelish though. Did you know they used to live next door to each other as kids?”

“Lysa Arryn and Petyr Baelish grew up together?” he repeated incredulously. “I’d say that’s one hell of a connection.” Jon grunted in agreement. “How’d you find out? I doubt it was in any file.”

Jon bit the inside of his lip, remembering Tyrion’s wish to remain anonymous. He was sure the dwarf probably knew more about the people in the Arryns social circle than Jon could ever hope to learn from any other source, but if Jon betrayed his confidence, he’d probably never confide in him again.

“Anonymous tip,” he said, knowing from Yoren look that he didn’t buy it for a second.

“Your new boyfriend,” he surmised with a smirk.

“Robb and I aren’t together,” Jon corrected, though he didn’t correct the assumption that Robb was his source. 

“You just spent the night together,” Yoren teased, waggling his eyebrows at him.

Jon scowled. “He slept on my _couch_ because… I don’t have to explain myself,” he humphed, not wanting to admit how emotional he had been yesterday after the homicide at the Stark house.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with the investigation,” he warned. “But to be on the safe side, I don’t think you should be in the room when we interview all the Starks this afternoon.”

“Why are we interviewing the Starks?” he asked suspiciously. “None of them could have done this. Did you learn your lesson after Sansa?”

Yoren rolled his eyes. “Calm down, lover boy. No one is accusing any more of your in-laws.” Jon just glared at him. “We have to interview them to see if they can point us in the direction of actual suspects though.”

“If you don’t suspect them, why shouldn’t I be in the room? Sansa wouldn’t talk to anyone but me,” Jon pointed out.

“Considering the mother seems to hate you and the younger girl punched you this morning, I’m not sure that’s the case,” Yoren commented mildly. “Besides, if you’re going to be around them more now, it might be best to keep you separated from the formal investigation in their minds. They’ll be more likely to open up to you.”

Jon wasn’t particularly happy about the decision, but didn’t argue. As much as he wanted to be there for the Starks, he also understood Yoren’s reasoning. 

Not that he was planning on spending much time with them outside of the investigation. In fact, he was planning on staying as far away from the family as he could, knowing that his little reunion with the Starks had an expiration date. But Catelyn and Arya might be less hostile if someone else were asking them questions.

Soon, they were pulling into one of the most ostentatious houses Jon had ever seen. And considering he had been dragged to the Lannisters’ Christmas party every year, that was saying something. Jon knew the house wasn’t meant to convey wealth, though. No, it was meant to show how powerful the man who owned it was.

An intimidating man answered the door. He was dressed as a butler, but Jon could see the faint outline of a gun under his jacket. That along with his size gave away that he was more of a bodyguard than a butler. He narrowed his eyes at their badges, but led them without comment to a study, telling them that “Master Baelish” would be with them momentarily.

The minutes slowly ticked by, but Jon didn’t let the wait get to him. He wasn’t going to play Baelish mind games.

After about ten minutes, Baelish finally strode into the room. “Gentlemen, sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “What can I do for the fine detectives of the NYPD?”

“Mr. Baelish,” Yoren greeted. “I’m Lieutenant Yoren and this is Detective Snow. We’re investigating the murders of Jon and Lysa Arryn.”

“And you think I had something to do with that?” he asked, an exaggerated shocked look on his face.

“Tywin Lannister seemed to think you might have,” Jon answered casually, noting the sharpening of Baelish’s eyes before they took on an amused gleam. “And you did know Lysa.”

“We grew up together,” Baelish said with a nonchalant shrug before smirking. “And we may have gotten reacquainted recently. Trust me, though, if I had anything to do with the Arryns’ deaths, I would’ve gotten Lysa to sign over the estate to me first. I had nothing to gain for their deaths.”

“Lannister seemed to think you did,” Yoren pointed out.

“Tywin Lannister isn’t as smart as he likes to believe,” he replied, still with that infuriating smirk on his face. “Maybe he knew that Lysa and I were seeing each other and assumed I killed Jon in some sort of jealous rage.”

“With you basically admitting that you and one of the victims were sleeping together, you can see how we might be a bit suspicious,” Yoren replied.

“He’s admitting that he was sleeping with Lysa for her husband’s money,” Jon clarified, not liking how his summation made Baelish smile in satisfaction. “Which doesn’t exactly clear you from suspicion on her husband’s death.”

Baelish scoffed dismissively. “The man was 82. I’d like to think I have enough patience to out wait an 82-year-old man.” 

“I thought Lysa loved her husband,” Yoren commented.

“Oh, she did,” Baelish assured them with a smile. “But he was 35 years older than her, and the passion between them was gone.”

That was more than Jon ever wanted to know about Jon and Lysa Arryns’ sex lives. Thankfully, Baelish decided that he had told them everything he had to say about the matter and quickly ushered them out the door.

“What do you think?” Yoren asked as soon as they were back in the car.

“I think if Petyr Baelish was going to have someone killed, it wouldn’t be with belladonna,” Jon answered. “But I’d like to see who the administrator and heirs of the Arryn estate are before we rule him out.”

“I’m sure we can get our hands on a copy of both Jon and Lysa’s wills,” he said before giving the younger detective an amused look. “Does it bother you that one of our victims’ name is Jon? I feel like it would bother me.”

He shrugged. “When your name is so common, you get used to it. Though seeing it spelled out the same way is a little odd,” he added.

Yoren nodded thoughtfully before changing the subject. “So the crime lab has made this case their top priority. Since I’ll be interviewing Starks after lunch, you can go and see if you can understand their geek talk enough to get us some new leads. You can swing by the medical examiner’s office on the way back, too. Dr. Aemon promised to have the autopsy report ready by then.”

Jon nodded, happy with his new tasks. Well, one of them last least. He had only been to the ME’s office once before, but it had thoroughly creeped him out. Still, he actually liked going to the crime lab. 

With Sam as his only friend senior year, he had picked up a couple of things about science and stuff. His slight understanding was enough for him to strike up a pretty good friendship with one of the lab techs there, Pypar Singer. It was actually Jon that had introduce Pyp to his fiancé, Grenn.

They swung by a food truck for some burritos before heading back to the precinct, Yoren tossing Jon the keys to the car when they got there. “You’ll need it more than I will.”

Jon nodding, going into the precinct to grab just to see if Edd or Tormund had found out anything he should know, which they hadn’t, of course, so he turned to leave. 

Only to nearly walk straight into the whole Stark gang, plus Margaery Tyrell. Considering the hand that Margaery had wrapped tightly around Arya’s hand, Jon couldn’t help but wonder if she was more than just the Starks’ attorney.

If he had thought he would be able to get out of the station without speaking with them, Robb’s face lighting up like a damn Christmas tree at the sight of Jon told him that he was wrong. “Jon!” he exclaimed, looking like he was barely keeping himself from pulling the detective into a hug. Jon was glad he _did_ restrain himself. He was at work, after all.

The General was a bit more sedate in his greeting, but no less warm. Bran and Sansa seemed pleased to see him, and hell, even Catelyn gave him a very small smile. Arya still seemed pissed, but Margaery rolled her eyes at her antics, mouthing “she’ll get over it” to Jon reassuringly. 

“Will you be interrogating us?” Catelyn asked airily.

“No, ma’am,” he replied politely. “And the detectives won’t be interrogating you. They’re just going to interview to see if you could point us towards any new leads.”

“Why won’t you be there?” Arya demanded to know with a scowl. “You’re just leaving us with these people?”

“I feel more sorry for the detectives interviewing you than anything else,” Bran muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Jon isn’t _leaving_ us,” Robb retorted, shooting Arya a stern look. “He’s doing his job and letting the other detectives do theirs.”

He shot Robb a grateful look. He knew Arya’s full wrath, once unleashed, was hard to rein in, so he appreciated the help in curbing it for down. At least until they could be somewhere that wasn’t the precinct.

“And we’re going to help them do their jobs however we can,” the General stated firmly, giving Arya a significant look. She looked properly chastised at that. Ned then smiled and turned back to Jon. “Since we won’t have the pleasure of your company this afternoon, I think we would all love it if you could join us for dinner. Lyanna and your foster brother will be there as well, and I know they’d love to see you too.”

Jon looked from Ned’s welcoming smile to Robb’s hopeful face before sneaking a peak at Catelyn and Arya. The Stark matriarch looked bored by the conversation, but not visibly displeased by the invite. Arya just gave him a challenging look. Jon wasn’t quite sure what she was challenging him to do though.

“I don’t know… The early stages of the investigation are the most important…”

Robb brushed off that excuse. “You’ve been working since five this morning,” he told him sternly. “Dinner is at eight. To miss it, you would have to have worked over fifteen hours straight, and I’m sure you’d be useless to the investigation at that point.”

Jon really wished that didn’t make so much sense. Robb’s reasoning backfired, though, when Ned frowned.

“If you’re too tired from working, we will of course understand,” he said in a concerned voice. 

Jon was all set to grab the offered excuse, but the nearly identical sad looks on Robb, Bran, Sansa, _and_ Arya’s faces were enough to make him pause. The worst part was that they weren’t even fake looks meant to guilt him into dinner.

He gave the General a rueful smile. “Well, I’ve got to eat anyway, don’t I?”

Robb beamed at him as Ned smiled and nodded. “I guess you do.”

“I’ll swing by your place to get you around 7:30,” Robb was quick to volunteer. “That way, if you are tired, you won’t have to worry about getting to and from the restaurant.”

“Thanks,” he said, unable to deny how convenient that would be, even if he was sure his neighborhood was well out of Robb’s way. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a shout from Yoren drew his attention.

“Tollet, Hornblower, Snow!” the lieutenant bellowed from the door of his office, face more serious than Jon had ever seen it. “My office, _now_!”

Robb’s worried eyes met his for a moment before Jon hastened to follow Edd and Tormund into Yoren’s office. At the lieutenant’s gesture, he quickly closed the door behind him.

“There’s been another murder on the Upper East Side,” Yoren informed them without preamble.

Jon inhaled sharply. He was suddenly very grateful that he knew the Starks were safe. 

“Who’s the victim?” Tormund asked the question on all of their minds.

Yoren’s jaw tightened before he ground out the answer. “Stannis Baratheon.”

tbc…


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got sappier than I intended. I'm sorry, haha.

Jon wasn’t asked anything about Stannis Baratheon. No one on the force had to ask about Judge Baratheon. He was notorious on the bench. There were no gray areas of the law to the Judge. No room for interpretation. No room for leniency. If you broke the law, you paid the consequences.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the Arryns’ deaths before him, Jon wouldn’t even be _surprised_ that Stannis had been murdered. He was sure the man received dozens of death threats a year, if not a month.

On the heels of the Arryns’ murders, though, the death was suspicious, particularly when nothing currently linked the Arryns with the Judge, except for their common station in society.

Jon was sure he wasn’t the only one whose mind was whispering a sinister answer to him. 

_Serial killer_.

The logical part of Jon’s mind said no. The last two murders were too close together, not even 24 hours between them. _If_ Judge Baratheon’s murder was connected to the Arryns’, that didn’t mean it was a serial killer. Besides, there was no pattern to the deaths so far. Jon Arryn was poisoned, Lysa Arryn was stabbed. He didn’t even _know_ how Stannis Baratheon had died.

There was no reason to fear the worst without any further proof.

Jon was currently riding shotgun to Lieutenant Yoren, Edd and Tormund having been sent ahead while the lieutenant calmly told the Starks that their interviews would have to be rescheduled. The entire homicide unit was being sent to the new crime scene.

Robb’s concerned eyes had locked onto his before he had left, something in Jon’s face obviously telling him that things had taken a turn for the worse. He had tried to give Robb a reassuring smile, but he was sure it came out all wrong.

“I should still be able to make dinner,” he had told him in lieu of telling him about the new murder, unsure if Yoren wanted it leaked to anyone else just yet. “I’ll text you if that changes.”

Robb had just nodded as the rest of his family looked on with anxious eyes. Even Arya’s open hostility towards him melted in the face of frenetic activity of the formerly rather sedate bullpen. 

Margaery had shot him a knowing look as he left, and he had given her the benefit of a nod. It was probably easy for her, as an attorney, to know that another murder had happened. She’d pass it on to the rest of the family so that they wouldn’t worry that Jon was headed into a shoot off or something equally as crazy.

“What do we have?” Yoren barked as they walked into the most modest mansion Jon had ever seen. 

A uniformed officer was quick to jump to attention. “The body is just through here, sir,” he informed them, leading them into an efficiently decorated home office. The Judge was lying face-down on the floor, eyes wide open and face frozen in a horrific expression. 

Jon had to look away from the sight. It was far from the most gruesome crime scene he had seen, but something about the look on the dead man’s face spoke of the terrible knowledge that death was coming and there was nothing that could stop it.

Jone couldn’t imagine how terrible the feeling must have been.

“Poison,” Edd told them, joining them near the body. He nodded towards a crystal tumbler on its side next to the body. “Pretty sure it was in whatever he was drinking. If I were a gambling man, I’d put money on it being the single malt scotch from his desk. The wife said he was the only one to ever drink it.”

“Belladonna?” Jon asked.

“Too soon to tell,” he answered with a shrug. “But again, if I were a betting man…”

“Two prominent and by all accounts upstanding men murdered by poison within a week of each other,” Yoren summed up with a scowl. “I don’t like it.”

“They probably like it less,” Tormund quipped as he joined them.

Yoren glared at him, obviously not appreciating the irreverent humor. “Have you taken everyone’s statements?”

“We took the wife’s,” the redhead reported, sobering under his supervising officer’s glare. “The butler just got home.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Snow, you take the butler. The rest of you, canvas the neighbors.”

The butler was easy to spot even without Jon’s experienced eye. People with the type of money the Baratheons’ had always dressed their butlers in the stereotypical attire associated with the help. Which meant, in this particular case, pristinely pressed black pants, a gray vest, topped off with a black coat and tie. Given Stannis Baratheon’s obviously spartan tastes, though, Jon had to wonder why he even bothered with a full-time butler.

He approached him with an understanding smile, hoping to project a sympathy and a sincere desire to help. He didn’t know how attached this man had been to his employer, and he certainly didn’t want to offend him. Offended people often weren’t very talkative when it mattered.

“Hi, I’m Detective Jon Snow with the NYPD,” he introduced himself, holding a hand out.

The butler’s deep wrinkles and gray and white hair was belied by the sharp wisdom in his eyes. “Davos Seaworth,” he said after a moment, taking Jon’s hand and giving it a firm shake. “I’ve been the Baratheons’ butler for the last 15 years.”

“Well, Mr. Seaworth, have you noticed anything strange in the past few days? Has anyone been in the Judge’s office other out of the ordinary?” Jon asked, starting with the basics.

“Not that I recall,” he answered with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, detective, but I’m probably not going to be much help. I haven’t actually been around lately. I’m in the processing of moving out, you see. I told the Judge I was only going to stay on until the end of the year after Shireen graduated from high school.”

“Shireen? Is that their daughter?” he clarified, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a notebook to jot down any relevant information.

Davos snorted. “It was _his_ daughter,” he remarked bitterly. “Not sure Mrs. Baratheon considered the girl her daughter or not. Shireen was the only reason I stayed as long as I did with the family. With the Judge always working and her mother awful as she was, I figured someone had to be there for Shireen.”

Jon paused in his note-taking. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but after Tyrion had told him about Lysa Arryn’s abuse of her son, the Baratheon girl being mistreated by her mother stuck in his head. “Mrs. Baratheon abused her daughter?”

Davos pressed his lips together. “She never hit her or anything,” he answered with a steely glint in his eye. “I wouldn’t have let something like that happen. I wouldn’t have just stood by and let Shireen get hurt. And I’d like to think her father wouldn’t either. She was… cruel… to her though,” he admitted reluctantly. “Shireen’s face is disfigured from some birth defect she was born with. I can’t remember the name. Her mother always took that as a personal offense, I think.”

Jon asked a few more questions before thanking him and walking away, mind whirring with possibilities. From what Davos had said, Shireen loved her father. Hell, he had even gotten the impression that she loved her mother, even. But even if she wasn’t abused physically, Jon was fairly certain that the girl had been abused emotionally.

The problem was that Shireen was gone. Off to Berkeley, Davos had told him proudly. And even if she had been around, she had no reason to kill her father. And the Judge hadn’t been threatening to take her away from Mrs. Baratheon like Jon Arryn had been with his son. 

The more Jon thought about it, the less like a connection it seemed. Robyn Arryn’s and Shireen Baratheon’s situations were nothing alike, really.Without more to go on, the connection Jon thought he had found was beginning to look more and more like a mere coincidence.

He sighed, writing down the information anyway. It never hurt to be thorough.

 

#

 

Yoren had told them all to go home at five, which mean Jon had plenty of time to shower and get dressed before Robb arrived at 7:30. 

He fidgeted and fretted about his clothes his clothes for about a half hour after he had gotten dressed. He wished he had something a little nicer to wear. He was sure Catelyn was going to take one look at the cheap slacks and button down he bought at TJ Maxx and have every one of her uncharitable thoughts about him confirmed. The jacket he thought was fairly nice at least. Sure, in the right light, you could tell that the black of the jacket didn’t _exactly_ match the black of the pants, but restaurants never had that good of lighting anyway.

He had a brief moment of panic about whether he should be wearing a tie and then wondering what tie he owned that would match the bright red of his shirt. He blanched as he caught sight of the color in the reflective surface of his lamp. Was it too bright? Maybe he shouldn’t have worn it. He probably shouldn’t even have bought it, but Ygritte had been with him and had glared at him until he had gotten it.

Before he could decide whether he looked too uptight with the shirt tucked in, a knock sounded at the door.

Jon was fairly certain his heart stopped when he opened the door to see Robb smiling brightly at him, his dark gray suit cut in a way that made his body look fantastic and the deep blue of his shirt enhancing the blue in his eyes. Jon was happy to note that he, too, had gone sans tie.

Robb’s smile widened to a grin as his eyes ran up and down Jon in an exaggerated fashion. “Oh, we can’t go out in public with you looking like that,” he quipped. Before Jon’s dismay could really register in his mind, though, he continued, “If we do, you’re going to have to arrest me for killing anyone who looks at you.”

He huffed a laugh in relief. “I wasn’t really sure I remembered how to dress for a dinner with you fancy-type people,” he retorted, grabbing his coat before locking up the apartment.

“Hey, don’t lump me in with the fancy-type people!” Robb said defensively, grin still firmly in place as he slung an arm around Jon’s shoulders. “I’ll have you know that I am usually in jeans if not sweats unless it’s for work or my mother is around.”

“What is it that you do now?” Jon asked as they exited the building.

“I’m this way,” Robb told him, steering him left and down the street to where his car was parked. “And I work with Uncle Benjen in his security firm. He’s grooming me to take over for him eventually. I think Dad was a little disappointed I didn’t stick it out with the Army, but even with Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell repealed, an openly gay man still is going to catch some heat. Everyone in my unit was cool about it, but there were a couple of guys that gave me a hard time once I came out.”

“You came out while you were still in the service?” he said, impressed.

He shrugged as he unlocked the car and they both slid inside. “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell had just been repealed, and I wanted to set an example.”

“You’re braver than me,” Jon told him with a shake of his head. It wasn’t really a surprising fact to learn.

“What, you’re not out at work?” Robb asked with a horrified look. “I haven’t caused you any problems, have I? Shit, Jon, I didn’t even _think_ —”

“No, it’s fine,” he was quick to assure. “I mean, I kept it quiet when I was working in vice, but that was when I didn’t really even want to bother with dating or anything, you know? So it didn’t matter.”

He nearly kicked himself as he realized the obvious implication of his words. _Jeez, Snow, why don’t you just throw yourself at him like a love-sick idiot_.

Robb smiled in satisfaction though. “I’m going to take that as meaning that it _does_ matter now because you _are_ interested in dating someone,” he said as he eased into traffic. “And I’m going to be bold enough to say that I am really hoping that someone is me.”

Jon was silent for a moment as he fought back a rush of emotions at those words. “Why would you want to date me again after I broke your heart in high school?” he asked softly, keeping his eyes glued to the taillights in front of them so he didn’t have to look at Robb.

“You had your reasons,” he replied mildly.

“They were stupid,” Jon growled, shaking his head sharply as he tried to blink back tears. “I was an idiot. A stupid, selfish, cowardly idiot. Looking back now, I had so many other options that I could’ve chosen, but no,” he spat bitterly. “Stupid Jon had to break the heart of the first person who ever looked at him like he wasn’t a waste of space.”

“First of all, you are not now, nor have you ever been, a waste of space,” Robb stated firmly, shooting Jon a glare as if daring him to argue. “Second of all, you were seventeen. We’re all stupid idiots when we’re seventeen. And I was the stupid idiot who watched you be miserable most of senior year and didn’t do anything about it because I was caught up in my own hurt.”

Jon sighed and gave him a regretful smile. “I wouldn’t have let you convince me to get back together back then. I still thought I was right.”

“I still should’ve _tried_ ,” he shot back with a scowl. “Instead of waiting until after graduation, after you had basically disappeared.” He shook his head ruefully and looked back at Jon. “Where did you go, anyway?”

“Ann Arbor,” he replied with a shrug. “I got a scholarship at Michigan and moved up there early. If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t you I was trying to get away from.”

“I’ll take it,” he said with a small smile. 

A few moments of silence passed, and Jon breathed a bit easy as the conversation appeared to have died off. He wasn’t quite ready to talk about what had happened just yet. He was surprised, then, when Robb grabbed his hand suddenly while they were stopped at a light and gave him a serious look.

“Listen, we don’t have to rehash the past tonight, or anytime soon if you don’t want, because it doesn’t matter to me,” he declared earnestly. “I don’t care what mistakes our stupid seventeen selves made. Jon, I _love_ you. Maybe it’s cheesy as hell to say it now, but I do.”

Jon looked away, heart thumping wildly. “Robb, you haven’t seen me in ten years,” he replied, trying to make the other man see reason. “You have no reason why I broke your heart and left, and you don’t know anything about my life after high school. How can you still love me?”

“If Arya decided to go backpacking through Europe for ten years without so much as a postcard, I’d still love her when she got back,” he pointed out softly.

Jon couldn’t help a snort of amusement at that. It sounded like something Arya would actually do. “That’s not the same. She’s your sister.”

“It’s a different type of love, sure, but I don’t see why it should be more enduring than the type I feel for you,” Robb argued. “Jon, I fell in love with you like ten minutes after I met you in the sixth grade. I know how it feels and I know I still feel it. Sure, I haven’t exactly been a monk for the past ten years or pining pathetically or whatever, but no one ever made me feel anything close to what I’ve always felt for you.”

Jon dared a peek up at Robb’s face and frowned at the hopeful look in his eyes. “I don’t really know what to say.”

“Well, I was kinda hoping for something that said you felt the same,” he suggested with a half-chagrined smile, as if he were expecting to be shot down at any moment.

“Of course, I feel the same,” Jon huffed with a roll of his eyes, unable to deny Robb the truth in this at least. “I probably would go as far to say that I _have_ been pining pathetically for ten years but—”

Whatever he was going to say flew out the window as Robb’s hand curled around his neck and pulled him into a searing kiss. Jon gasped in surprise, momentarily tensing before relaxing into the kiss, groaning as the other man’s tongue snaked out lick into his mouth.

A loud honk from behind them jerked them apart, Robb grinning stupidly at him as he accelerated the car through the green light. Jon wanted to glare at him on principle, but really couldn’t with the phantom feeling of those lips still on his mouth.

“So it’s settled then,” Robb announced cheerfully. “We’re officially back together.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “You’re such a spoilt brat,” he said fondly.

“You can be as sullen about it as you like, but you said you still loved me, so I’m going to be happy for the rest of my life now,” he replied with a cheeky wink.

“I don’t think I actually said the word love,” Jon retorted. When a hint of doubt entered Robb’s eyes, though, he was quick to add, “But I guess I do.”

Robb beamed again as he focused back on the road. His smile faltered for a second as he glanced at Jon nervously. “Um, just to warn you, Arya kinda took you leaving a little personally so you might have a tough time with her tonight.”

Considering the glares and the punches, Jon really wasn’t surprised. “Thanks for the warning, but I can handle it,” he assured.

Robb parked the car before turning to look at him with a grave expression. “Just know that I will always love you. Even if my little sister ends up killing you tonight.”

tbc…


	9. Chapter Nine

He and Robb were the last ones to arrive at the restaurant. Honestly, Jon was surprised that Catelyn Stark hadn’t looked at him in utter disapproval over that, but arriving with Robb must have been his saving grace because she just gave them both a small smile as they were led to the table.

To Jon’s shock, Lyanna Targaryen, nee Stark, jumped up from her seat immediately and made a beeline for Jon, wrapping in a tight hug. Jon had met Lyanna a handful of times growing up, though he had never really had a real conversation with her. He hadn’t even realized she would remember him, let alone embrace him like a long-lost friend.

What was it with Stark women surprising him with hugs lately?

“I am so sorry, Jon,” she murmured in his ear, pulling back to look at him with guilty eyes to his utter confusion. “I didn’t _know_.”

“Jon,” Rhaegar greeted him next, giving him a hug as well, though it wasn’t nearly as tight as his wife’s. “It’s good to see you.”

Lyanna smiled at him kindly as she pulled him towards the table, her face so much like Arya’s that it was shocking to see the smile when Arya herself was glaring at him from her seat. Her glare only intensified when Lyanna pressed him into the seat next to her, which also happened to be next to _Arya_ as well.

Robb frowned as he realized that both places next to Jon were taken. Jon gave him a shrug as he took he only other seat available at the end of the table between Bran and Sansa.

Between Lyanna’s overly welcoming attitude and Arya’s foreboding scowl, Jon really wished Robb was seated closer to him.

“I wish Dany were here to see you,” Lyanna told him as she took her seat next to her husband at the end of the table and across from Catelyn. She placed her napkin in her lap, and Jon hastily did the same with his own. “She used to adore you when she was little. When we first took her in, she would demand to know where you were every day,” she continued with a chuckle. “She was a very imperious four-year-old.”

“I’m sure she’s grown up a lot since the last time I saw her,” Jon commented, remembering his foster sister fondly as a rail-thin toddler who used to stomp her feet and hold her breath to get her way. He saw her sporadically over the years after she had gone to live with Rhaegar and Lyanna in Europe, but that was always the clearest picture of her he had in his head.

“Yes, she has,” she replied with a sad smile, looking at Jon with guilt in her eyes once more. “You should’ve grown up with her,” she told him softly. “We should’ve taken you, too. If I had _known_ the kind of man Aerys was…”

“I turned out alright,” he cut her off hastily, noticing that both Arya and Sansa, who was seated diagonally from him and next to her father, were leaning in to listen to their conversation, Arya being far less subtle about it than her sister. The youngest Stark sister narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

Thankfully, the waiter chose that moment to take their drink orders and hand them their menus. Jon was grateful that he had the excuse of perusing the menu to avoid any further conversation. He let his eyes glance towards Robb, who was laughing with Bran and hadn’t noticed his discomfort.

“There was another murder today, wasn’t there, Jon?” Arya asked abruptly after their drinks had arrived, making Jon look up from his intense study of the menu.

“Arya,” her father admonished even as most of the other occupants of the table looked at Jon curiously. Crime, Jon had found, particularly violent crime, always drew people in, even if they didn’t want to admit it.

“What?” she said, eyes a little too wide to look truly innocent. “Margaery told me that’s what the fuss at the station was.”

“Yeah, there was,” Jon admitted, feeling much more at ease talking about murder than he was making small talk. He wondered what that said about him.

“Well, who was it?” Arya asked curiously. Jon frowned at her. Her demeanor was more like the Arya he had grown up with than the angry girl from earlier. What had caused her quick turn around?

“Stannis Baratheon,” he replied, seeing no point in keeping it quiet. He was sure all the local news outlets knew by now.

“What’s he got to do with Uncle Jon and Aunt Lysa?” Sansa asked, speaking up for the first time since Jon arrived.

Jon shook his head. “We don’t know yet. We don’t even know that they’re connected.”

“Can we please not discuss this at the table,” Catelyn stated rather than asked, giving her daughters a stern look before turning toward Lyanna and asking her something about some wedding. Jon was relieved. He was tired enough that he might let something slip that he really shouldn’t, even to his family.

_It’s not_ your _family_ , the mean voice in his head reminded him.

Before he could dwell on that, though, Arya tugged harshly on his sleeve and drew his attention.

“What did Aunt Lyanna _mean_ about the kind of man Aerys was?” she hissed, pitching her voice so low that even Bran on the other side of her couldn’t hear. Sansa glanced at them but quickly focused back on something Lyanna was saying about flowers.

“Nothing,” he whispered back, taking a peek at Robb, who was watching the two of them with curious eyes, even if he couldn’t hear a word they were saying.

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” Arya said stubbornly. “It sounded like the Senator _hurt_ you.”

“So what?” he snapped impatiently, his long day finally catching up with him. He didn’t have the energy to argue with her. “That was years ago. It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s why you left,” she answered shrewdly. “You were being _hurt_. Jon, you should have _told_ us!”

“Drop it, Arya,” he warned just before the waiter came to take their orders. He looked around the table, relieved that no one seemed to have heard her hushed outburst. He nearly winced, though, as he saw Robb staring at him, naked concern in his eyes. He shook his head at the other man, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

“Does Robb know?” Arya asked quietly after the waiter had their orders.

“Arya, _please_ ,” he begged. Because he had missed her so much in the past years, he had forgotten how absolutely _annoying_ she could be.

“He can’t know,” she said thoughtfully, ignoring his pleas. “You wouldn’t have told him then because he wouldn’t have just let it go. And you wouldn’t be so worried about it now if he knew.”

“Arya,” he hissed.

“What are you two whispering about?” Sansa asked.

Jon was well-aware that both Robb and Bran were looking at them curiously now. Thankfully, their parents and the Targaryens were absorbed in whatever conversation they were having. “Nothing,” he said, shifting uncomfortably under their gazes and looking down at his lap.

“Jon’s spent so long gone that he forget which forks and spoons to use for what,” Arya replied cheekily, shooting Jon a wink. He just blinked at her, surprised that she was covering for him when telling the truth would probably have pried the whole story out of him.

Sansa grinned at him. “Well now you’re just going to have to stick around so you never forget again,” she told him smugly.

“Well, I’m definitely not going to let him get away this time,” Robb declared, loud enough to draw the rest of the table’s attention.

“Does that mean you’re together again?” Bran asked eagerly, leaning forward to beam at Jon around Arya.

Jon felt himself blush as Ned and Catelyn’s eyes settled on him, and he resolutely kept his head down so that he didn’t have to see whatever it was that was on their faces. He knew his reaction would make Robb feel guilty, but he didn’t know if he wanted to know what Robb’s parents thought about their renewed relationship.

Still, since he knew Robb wouldn’t confirm anything if he didn’t respond, and might even try and cover up his slip in some misguided notion that Jon didn’t want his family to know, he nodded.

“Good,” was the first response, from the last person on Earth he had expected. Jon snapped his head up to stare at Catelyn in shock. She raised a brow at him but didn’t comment further.

“It is good,” Ned said with an approving nod.

“Maybe we’ll be planning another wedding soon,” Lyanna remarked slyly, elbowing Jon slightly.

Robb laughed at him as Jon shot him a panicked look. “Maybe one day,” he replied lightly. Jon’s breath caught in his throat, wondering if Robb were serious.

How the hell had he gotten here? Just last week he was telling himself he deserved to be alone and that he would avoid Robb, now he was wondering if Robb were serious about maybe marrying him one day?

Jon was starting to have doubts about their relationship. Not that he thought Robb was lying to him when he told him he loved him and that their past didn’t matter, but maybe Robb didn’t realize how much it _did_ matter? How could he just forget and forgive all the hurt Jon had caused him?

The rest of the meal was agonizing for him. Robb must have noticed, cause he kept sending him puzzled looks throughout the meal. Dessert and coffee was particularly grueling, partly because he had forgotten all about dessert and partly because the caffeine and sugar only served to key him up and make him more aware of his thoughts.

Robb told everyone a quick goodnight shortly afterwards, leading Jon to his car.

“What’s wrong?” Robb asked quietly once they were on their way.

“Why did you forgive me?” Jon blurted out, unable to keep his anxieties in any longer after stewing in them all through dinner. “I don’t care how long ago it was. I _hurt_ you. I can’t forgive myself for it. How can you do it so easily?”

“You think it was _easy_?” he said with an incredulous laugh. He glanced at him before he focused back on the road. “It wasn’t,” he told him in a tight voice.

His tone of voice made Jon wince. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, thinking he had made the other man mad. Why the fuck couldn’t he do anything right?

Robb shook his head angrily as he took the ramp onto the highway. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he told him, frustration in his voice. “It wasn’t like I explained it very well before. I should’ve realized you wouldn’t have accepted being forgiven so easily. You never were very good at accepting good things at face value.”

Jon wanted to argue, but he knew it was true. When you grew up like he did, you typically didn’t trust that there was much good in the world. And when you then go on to be a cop, well, could Jon really be blamed when he looked for ulterior motives.

Not that he thought that _Robb_ had any ulterior motives, but still.

“You know I was in Afghanistan, right?” Robb said suddenly, confusing Jon with the seeming change of subject.

“Yeah,” he replied, unsure where the conversation was headed.

“Well, what you don’t know is that during my last tour there, the humvee I was in got taken out by a couple IEDs,” he continued in a forced calm voice. “I was pretty banged up, had to be in the hospital a couple of weeks, but I was okay. Two of the guys with me weren’t so lucky though.”

“Robb…” Jon breathed, irrational fear clenching his heart. He hadn’t known he had come so close to losing the other man before he had gotten him back.

He gave him a tight smile as he took the exit that would lead him to Jon’s apartment in Queens. “It’s been over three years. I’m okay. I mean, it messed with my head for a time there, but I talked about it in therapy, and I still go to the VA for group, but I’m okay,” he assured him, eyes glassy with unshed tears. Jon blinked back his own tears as Robb went on. “But when I was in the hospital, all I could think about were all the things I had wished I had done differently. All the regrets I had.”

He turned onto Jon’s street and easily pulled into a spot about a block away from the building. Robb looked at him with sad smile on his face as he put the car in park.

“You were my biggest regret.”

Jon swallowed thickly before surging forward to pull him into a kiss, hands knotting in Robb’s auburn curls as he licked into the other man’s mouth.

He understood Robb’s willingness to put the past behind them and start again now. And with Robb being so open and honest with him, Jon knew he should return the favor.

He broke the kiss reluctantly. “Do you want to come up?”

Robb’s eyes darkened at the question, and Jon realized exactly how it must have sounded. However, when Robb claimed his mouth in a hungry kiss, he decided that maybe his confessions could wait until later.

Right now, all he could think about was feeling Robb’s skin against his own.

How they made it up to his apartment, Jon would never know, but he moaned embarrassingly loud once the door was shut and Robb pushed hims against it, devouring his mouth as his hips ground into Jon’s.

Jon growled in frustration at the angle. He wasn’t much shorter than Robb, but he was just short enough that he wasn’t getting the friction that he desperately needed. He gasped when Robb’s hand reached down and grasped his thigh, hitching his leg up so that the only thing keeping him upright was his right foot and Robb’s body.

“Fuck!” he cried, as the fabric of his pants stretched tighter across his straining erection, which was now pressed against Robb’s thigh. He bucked against Robb, needy noises escaping his mouth without his permission as Robb’s lips found the tender spot just below his ear. He moaned in protest as Robb pulled away.

“Bed,” he growled. 

Jon nodded, leading Robb to his bedroom, which was only about ten feet away but seemed to stretch on for _eternity_.

Robb was pushing off Jon’s shirt as soon as they neared the bed. Jon’s head was spinning with lust, and he had somehow missed how he lost his jacket and when exactly Robb had managed to unbutton his shirt.

He didn’t mind, though, especially not when they both fell shirtless back onto the bed.

Jon reached to pull Robb into a kiss, but frowned when he resisted, his eyes caught on Jon’s right shoulder. He tentatively brought his hand up to brush across the skin, and it was only then that Jon remembered his bullet wound scar.

“It looks worse than it was,” he said softly, hand coming up to catch the fingers tracing the scar. “Tell you about it later?”

Robb’s eyes snapped to his, and for a moment, Jon thought that the scar had broken the mood. Thankfully, the other man’s expression softened as he leaned down to press a light kiss to the scar.

“I’m glad it wasn’t worse,” he murmured, kissing his way down to Jon’s right nipple and lapping at it generously.

Jon hissed in pleasure. His nipples had always been particularly sensitive, and Robb remembered it well if his smirk was anything to go on.

It was odd for him to have a bedmate who already knew his body. The handful of times he had had sex in the past ten years, it had always been a one-time thing.

 

After it was over, Jon took a moment to lie next to Robb as they both caught their breath and basked in their afterglow before reluctantly rolling off the bed to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom. He wiped the mess off his own stomach and crotch before returning and handing it to Robb.

“Thanks,” he smiled, taking it and wiping himself off before tossing it aside. He reached up then and unceremoniously pulled Jon back down onto the bed with him.

“I forgot you were a cuddler,” Jon remarked fondly as he settled against Robb with a content sigh, allowing Robb to make him the little spoon.

Robb hummed. “You know, I meant for our first time back together to be a little more romantic,” he told him sleepily, planting lazy kisses on his neck and shoulder. “A little slower, relearning each other’s body’s, that kind of thing. I think I kinda missed the mark.”

“We’ve got plenty of time for slow and romantic,” Jon replied with a yawn. “Besides, I don’t think you’ve forgotten my body.”

“It’s an amazing body,” he replied, and Jon could _hear_ the smirk in his voice. “And I happen to be in love with the man it belongs to.”

Jon smiled as he let his eyes slip close. “Love you too.”

 

#

 

He woke up before Robb the next morning, slipping out of bed so he didn’t end up staring creepily at the other man.He threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before padding to the kitchen to put on some coffee.

He was telling his boyfriend everything this morning. He definitely thought coffee was needed for it.

Robb walked into the kitchen just as the coffee was finishing brewing, wearing only his boxers. Jon glanced back at him as he was reaching for some mugs and smiled. “Good morning.”

He wrapped his arms around Jon from behind. “It would be a better morning if you hadn’t put on so many clothes for some reason,” he told him with a pout.

Jon was about to answer when he was interrupted by a knock on his door.

He was instantly alert at that. Not many people knocked on his door. _Especially_ not this early. He frowned as he realized his service pistol was in his nightstand still.

He crept towards the door, Robb on his heels, looming over him protectively. Jon wanted to roll his eyes at that. What he planned to do to protect Jon while he was half-naked, he didn’t know. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to find out he realized as he looked out his peephole.

“It’s only Sam,” he told Robb, relief evident in his voice.

He didn’t know if it was the case or the fact that he was reuniting with so many people from his past, but Jon seemed to be extra jumpy these days.

Robb relaxed and gave him a smile. “I’ll go get dressed,” he said, giving him a peck on the lips before leaving.

Jon opened the door, smile slipping from his face as he gave Sam a confused frown. “What are you doing here so early, Sam?”

Though his old friend wasn’t an infrequent visitor, he rarely came over before his workday began.

“I hadn’t seen you all week and I knew how you were worried about things and I knew I wouldn’t be able to see you this weekend,” Sam explained, rambling a bit but Jon just let him talk as he waved him in. Sam held up a pink bakery box with a chagrined smile. “I brought donuts?”

“Thanks, Sam,” Jon said, giving him a sincere smile. Sam had always been a good friend to him. He should have expected him to make this kind of gesture. He opened his mouth to say something more, but a noise from his bedroom stopped him. He suppressed a smile. It sounded like Robb had stubbed his toe, considering how now a faint stream of cursing could be heard.

“Who’s that?” Sam asked, eyes narrowing as he looked at the bedroom door.

“Um, Robb,” he replied with a sheepish smile. “We… kinda got back together last night.”

Jon had never seen Sam’s eyes look so cold. “You took him back?” he asked in a brittle voice. “After he just _abandoned_ you in high school?”

He was taken aback at that. “He didn’t _abandon_ me,” he told him hotly. “I broke up with _him_ , remember?”

“I remember you wearing long sleeves most of senior year because your foster father _beat_ you and you were hiding the evidence,” Sam shot back. Jon’s heart stopped at that. How had Sam _known_?!? “I remember Robb fucking Stark not giving a shit about it.”

“He didn’t know!” he argued, able to overcome his shock in order to defend Robb.

Sam threw the box of donuts onto the counter in disgust. “If he cared about you, he would have noticed,” he spat, turning and storming towards the door. He paused just a moment to glare back at Jon. “I noticed,” he told him before slamming the door behind him.

“Was that true?” Robb asked weakly from behind him, causing Jon to whirl around and stare at him with wide, frightened eyes. Tears were streaming down Robb’s face unchecked. “Did I really manage to completely miss the fact that your foster father was abusing you?”

tbc…


	10. Chapter Ten

“I… didn’t want you to know,” Jon admitted in a broken voice, never hating himself more in that moment. “And it really wasn’t that bad when we were together,” he added quickly, not knowing if he was trying to make Robb or himself feel better. “Or even before, really. It stopped being so bad once we became friends.”

“But it’s true,” Robb growled angrily as he stumbled to the couch and sat down heavily, fisting his hair with both hands. “ _Fuck!_ ”

Jon bit his lip as he stood there indecisively, not knowing if he would be welcome any closer. He had meant to ease the other man into the confession. Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference, but he could have at least _tried_. He was sure that he had ruined everything now.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, not knowing what else to say.

“What the _fuck_ are you sorry for?” Robb asked, head snapping up to look at Jon with confused eyes. “You aren’t the one who was too blind to notice the man he loved getting _beaten_ on a regular basis,” he ground out. When Jon didn’t say anything, he groaned. “Fuck, you were beaten on a regular basis!”

“No, I’m the asshole who lied to you for _years_ and then broke your heart because I was too much of a fucking coward to deal with my foster father,” Jon snapped bitterly, tears building in his eyes as he looked away.

He didn’t see Robb get up, but suddenly his arms were around him as he pulled him close to his chest. “Hey, no,” he told him gently. “You were a kid who had been hurt for _years_ and you did what you thought best.”

Jon shook his head vehemently even as he leaned into Robb’s embrace, letting his tears soak into the other man’s shirt. He didn’t deserve this comfort, but he wasn’t strong enough to push it away.

Why was he never fucking _strong_ enough to do the right thing?

“I did what I did because I was an idiot,” he spat, voice coming out muffled. “You should hate me for screwing everything up.

Robb led him over to the couch and sank down with him, pulling back a bit so that one arm was Jon’s back and his other hand held Jon’s hand. “Why don’t you tell me the whole story and then I’ll decide whether or not I hate you?”

Jon worried the inside of his lip as he considered that. On one hand, he didn’t want to think about his childhood very much, let alone _talk_ about it. Especially when it had been _him_ who had been the bad guy in the end. On the other hand, though, Robb deserved the truth.

He sighed, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees in an attempt to get away from Robb’s embrace. If he was going to do this, he had to do with without a crutch that was likely to be ripped away from him in the end.

Robb must have understood on some level, as he pulled his hands back to rest on his own knees.

“You know I was placed in the Targaryens’ house when I was five,” he began. He said _placed_ because Aerys and Rhaella had always made it quite clear that they weren’t _adopting_ him, that he _wasn’t_ part of the family. That hadn’t, of course, stopped a tiny two-year-old Dany from toddling after him everywhere he went. Rhaegar had graduated the year before he came, and Viserys was a moody preteen who wanted nothing to do with any of them.

Jon didn’t like dwelling on thoughts of his foster family, or how warily excited his five-year-old self had been at the process of staying in a big mansion with this perfect family _forever_. After being bounced around from foster family to foster family, never staying more than a year anywhere, it had seemed like a dream come true.

“I’m sure most people thought it was just a publicity stunt by the Senator,” he continued wryly. “‘Aerys Targaryen totally cares for the poor. Look! He took in this poor foster kid.’ That kind of thing. But that’s not why…”

“Then why?” Robb prompted gently after Jon fell silent for a moment.

He took a deep breath. “Because my foster mother wanted to protect her real children,” he replied sadly. He didn’t even blame her for it, really. Dany _deserved_ to be protected, and Viserys, despite his faults, certainly didn’t deserve what happened to him. “Whenever Aerys got angry, he was supposed to take his frustrations out on me.”

“You were their fucking whipping boy?” Robb asked in a tight voice. Jon glanced over to see him nearly trembling with rage. “That’s barbaric.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Jon tried to assure him, not sure how convincing he sounded, though, when he himself didn’t believe what he was saying. “The first couple of years, I had Dany, and Viserys even was sometimes nice to me. But then it was just me and the Senator.”

“What happened, Jon?” he asked softly.

“The Senator caught Viserys kissing another boy,” he told him. “He was so angry, the other boy had barely fled the house before he began hitting him. Rhaella tried to stop him, but he…”

Jon closed his eyes, remembering that night all too well. Aerys, raining blow after blow onto Viserys prone form. Rhaella, lunging forward only to be pushed aside, hitting the mantle with a sickening crack. Dany, crying in Jon’s arms as he ran from the room to cower in a closet upstairs.

Flames, burning higher and higher into the night sky.

“They said they died in the fire that night, but they were dead hours before then,” Jon whispered shakily.

“Shit,” Robb breathed, looking at him in horror.

He chuckled humorlessly. “I’m pretty sure everyone knew, too. No one dared to say anything against him, though,” he remarked bitterly, shaking his head. “Rhaegar took Dany after that. I’m pretty sure he told Aerys that if he didn’t let her go, he would go to the press and tell them everything. Maybe he wouldn’t have been arrested, but it would have hurt his re-election that year.”

“And he just _left_ you there? With an abusive murderer?!?” he asked, incredulously.

Jon shrugged. “He and Lyanna lived overseas. As a ward of the state, I couldn’t live anywhere but New York,” he reminded. “If it makes you feel better, your Aunt Lyanna didn’t know. She told me so tonight.”

“I don’t _care_ if Aunt Lyanna knew or not, I care that my fucking uncle knew and did _nothing_ ,” Robb snarled. “You could have _died_!”

“I didn’t,” Jon assured him, laying a soothing hand on Robb’s arm. “I’m fine.”

“No thanks to him,” he muttered darkly.

“I’m glad he at least got Dany away safely,” he murmured. “That made things a little easier to bear.”

“How could I not have _noticed_ anything?” Robb asked in a choked voice.

“I wasn’t lying when I said it wasn’t that bad after I became friends with you,” Jon told him earnestly. “Yeah, he still treated me like shit, but he didn’t hit me that often, and he never left any suspicious bruises. He was afraid your father would notice.” Not that Aerys didn’t find other ways to torture him, but that was neither here nor there. “He knew the General would never turn a blind eye if he found out.”

Robb caught Jon’s hand in his and held it tightly like a lifeline. “Why didn’t you _tell_ him, then?” he asked in a pleading voice. “You knew that he would have _helped_ you!”

“How?” Jon snapped in frustration. “No one was going to believe some nobody foster kid over a United fucking States Senator. And even if they did, what would happen? I’d go back into the system? Get sent who knows where in this stupid city?”

“ _We_ would have taken you in,” Robb insisted, hands coming up to grasp his shoulders tightly and turn him to look him in the eye. “Jon, you’re _family_!”

“Your mother never thought so,” he muttered, even if he was still confused over Catelyn’s remarks at dinner. “And the State of New York didn’t either.”

Robb winced at the reference to Catelyn. “Was she really what drove you away?”

“No,” Jon admitted, feeling guilty for using her as a scapegoat. “She just gave me an easy excuse. What your father said to me is what made me so scared.”

“ _What_?” he asked, incredulous. “But he was _supported_ us!”

“He wanted me to tell the Senator about us,” Jon told him. “Said that I owed him the truth so that a scandal wouldn’t break out. I just…” he swallowed thickly and looked down. “I couldn’t help think about what happened to Viserys,” he whispered, blinking back tears in shame.

“Jon,” Robb breathed before he was gathering him into a tight embrace. “He wouldn’t have made you tell Targaryen anything you didn’t want to.”

“I know,” he said shakily. “But I couldn’t help being afraid that he’d find out anyway. I mean, we didn’t tell _your_ parents and they found out. One slip-up and the Senator would have…”

He trailed off with a shudder. Why was he so afraid still? Aerys Targaryen couldn’t hurt him now. He hadn’t even _seen_ the old man in _years_.

“It was easier to just break up with you,” he muttered, voice full of self-loathing. “I was a coward.”

“No,” Robb said firmly, pulling back to look him in the eye. Jon was surprised that there were tears in his eyes. “You did what you had to do to make sure you survived,” he stated. “And then I treated you like crap for all of senior year and you had absolutely no reason to want to stick around. Don’t you dare blame yourself for _anything_.”

Jon couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. “You know, I was scared that you’d be angry when I told you,” he confessed. “Not tell me that I was blameless.”

“Oh, I’m angry,” Robb told him, jaw clenched. “Just not at _you_. Jon, I am _furious_ that someone hurt you, and I am even more furious that people apparently fucking _knew_ and did _nothing_.”

He relaxed completely at that. This was a Robb that he was familiar with. The Robb that would pick fights with anyone who teased Jon at school and who would scowl whenever Jon said something self-deprecating.

“I don’t care,” he said gently, snaking his arms around Robb’s waist as he scooted closer. “I’m okay now, and I have you and your family again. Nothing else matters to me.”

“I love you,” Robb said seriously, hands coming up to frame his face. “And you’ll always have me. Just… no more keeping things that hurt you secret, okay?”

“I think I can handle that,” he replied, before glancing at the clock on the cable box and sighing. “I’ve got to get dressed and go to work.”

Robb made a note of distress and wrapped him in a bear hug. “ _No_ ,” he whined playfully. “You can’t leave me _now_.”

Jon smiled, knowing that Robb was trying to lighten the mood even if he seriously didn’t want Jon to leave. “I have to,” he replied, trying to disentangle himself. “I can’t really take a mental health day in the middle of a murder investigation.”

“You can if you _need_ one,” he said stubbornly, eyeing Jon in concern.

“I don’t need one,” Jon assured him, leaning in and giving him a gentle kiss, amazed that he had this again. “Trust me, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time, even if I had to think about my crappy childhood this morning.”

Robb frowned but let him up. “Jon?” he called before he could walk into his room. He looked back to look at him in askance. “Why haven’t you gone after Aerys for your foster mother and brother’s deaths?”

“Yeah, cause that would go over well,” he scoffed. “‘Former foster kid claims United States Senator committed murder twenty years ago.’ Great headline.”

“No,” he replied seriously. “‘Rising star NYPD detective investigates twenty year murder cover up by former U.S. Senator.’ That’s your headline.”

Jon paused at that. The whole “rising star” bit was probably overstating things, but he wasn’t some loser foster kid anymore. He was one of the youngest detectives on the force, and he was on the legendary Lieutenant Yoren’s homicide squad. Maybe he _could_ get justice for Viserys and Rhaella.

He could at least _try_ , right?

“I’ll think about it,” he murmured, but leaving to get dressed. Whatever he decided to do, it would have to wait until after the current investigation wrapped up.

tbc…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not really what I wanted it to be, but I hope you enjoyed it!


	11. Chapter Eleven

Despite his emotionally charged morning, Jon felt much lighter as he entered the precinct. One of his biggest worry since beginning this case was Robb learning the truth and hating him for it. Now that the air was clear between them, Jon was much better prepared to tackle the murder investigation with no further distractions.

Which was good, because as soon as he walked into the bullpen, Edd pointed back towards the door. “You’re with me today, rookie,” he told Jon, brushing past him and heading out. “If we’re lucky, neither of us will get shot.”

Tormund rolled his eyes behind the other detective’s back. “You’ve never been shot.”

“Which means my luck is bound to be running out,” Edd pointed out dourly, not bothering to look back.

Jon looked at Tormund in slight concern, but the redhead just shook his head fondly. Assured that they weren’t _actually_ in imminent danger, he quickly caught up with Tollet. 

“If it helps, my luck ran out last year,” Jon said as they got into the car. “Took a through-and-through to the shoulder.”

“Great,” Edd groaned, easing the car into traffic. “That means if we get shot at, then I’ll definitely be the one to take a bullet.”

“Are we going somewhere dangerous?” Jon asked, confused at his pessimism.

“We’re going to an occult shop, which is apparently the only place in the city sells belladonna in a high enough concentration for a killer to use, if you believe CSU,” Edd explained, tone making it quite clear that he _didn’t_ believe the forensics team. “But considering this stuff can be grown in someone’s backyard, I don’t really see the point.”

“So are you afraid we’ll get shot at this place or that it’s going to be a waste of time?”

“Both,” he grumbled to Jon’s amusement.

When they reached their destination, a tiny hole-in-the-wall shop called “The Red Priestess,” Jon felt safe enough to say that their chances of being shot were low, to say the least. Hopefully, Edd’s other fear wouldn’t prove true.

When they walked in, it wasn’t hard to see where the name came from. The woman behind the counter was dressed in red from head to toe, with her long hair dyed a deep crimson to match. As they got closer, Jon could see that she even wore red contacts to complete the look. It seemed a bit gimmicky to him, but maybe the people who frequented occult shops like this preferred gimmicks.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a drawling, deep voice. Her face remained impassive as they flashed their badges.

“You the owner?” Edd questioned gruffly.

“Yes,” she replied, looking none too impressed with him. “I’m Melisandre.”

“Last name?” he barked, flipping open his notebook.

“No last name,” Melisandre said airily, raising an eyebrow at him in challenge.

Tollet didn’t seem to happy with that reply so Jon figured it was probably a good time to step in.

“Do you sell belladonna here, Ms. Melisandre?” he asked politely, giving her a small smile when her red eyes switched to him.

“That’s not a crime,” she stated haughtily.

“We have reason to believe one of your customers may have used belladonna they bought from you in a murder,” Jon told her.

“Many of my customers buy belladonna from me,” Melisandre told him dismissively. “It’s one of my best selling products. It’s an extremely potent natural medicine.”

“It’s also an extremely potent natural poison,” Edd pointed out. “Can we have a look at your records?”

“I don’t keep records,” she replied. “My customers like their privacy.”

“Surely you have credit card records at least?” Jon suggested, trying to be charming. Considering her baleful stare, though, he wasn’t sure he hit his mark.

“I only accept cash payment,” she told him.

“Of course you do,” Edd groused. “Do you remember anyone who seemed suspicious who has bought belladonna from you recently?”

“You mean do I remember selling belladonna to anyone who seemed like a murderer?” she asked archly. “I’m afraid not.”

With that unhelpful answer, they said their goodbyes and left their cards, before leaving the store with nothing, just as Edd had feared. It was a little disheartening, but they hadn’t been shot at so Jon figured that was a plus at least. Still, going back to the station with no new information was a little disappointing.

“At least you haven’t been buried in files all morning,” Tormund told them grumpily, gesturing toward the towering piles of file folders on his desk. Jon could see more boxes of files piled behind the desk.

“Have you found anything?” Jon asked, leaning against an adjacent desk as Edd dropped into the desk across from him.

The redheaded detective scoffed. “No. Tywin Lannister may be as dirty as mud, but there’s no connection with the Arryns or Judge Baratheon. I’m beginning to think this whole mob angle is a bust.”

“I don’t think they call it the mob anymore,” Edd commented dryly.

“Call it whatever the hell you want, I don’t think it’s here,” Tormund shot back.

Jon rolled his eyes at their bickering. “Looks like we all wasted our morning,” he said with a sigh.

Tormund opened his mouth to argue, but he was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. “Hornblower,” he answered before straightening in his seat. “Shit. We’re on our way.” He was out of his seat before he even hung up the phone, grabbing his jacket as he headed towards the door.

Jon and Tollet were quick to follow him. “What happened?” Jon asked.

“Lieutenant went to see the Judge’s widow. Found her stabbed to death in her hotel suite,” he answered grimly as they walked outside.

“I _knew_ it,” Edd declared as he slid into the driver’s seat. “We’ve got a pattern killer.”

“Just because there’s a pattern to the killings, doesn’t mean there’s a pattern killer,” Tormund pointed out.

“You just defined pattern killer,” he argued. “Tell him, Snow.”

Jon made a non-committal noise, too lost in his own thoughts to bother with a real answer. There was more of a pattern to these killings than either Edd or Tormund knew. Because _Jon_ hadn’t _told_ anybody. 

He was the only one who knew about the abuse angle. Sure, he had noted Selyse’s verbal and emotional abuse in his report yesterday, but he hadn’t told anyone what Tyrion Lannister told him about Robyn Arryn. He had seen the connection yesterday, but had discarded it because of how different the situations were.

But now two child abusers had been stabbed, while their spouses, who presumably knew about the abuse, had been poisoned.

That couldn’t be a coincidence, right? Sure, the murders were all way too close together to be the typical serial killer, but there was _definitely_ a pattern. A pattern he had seen and kept to himself, causing someone else to be killed.

Was this his fault? Was Selyse Baratheon’s murder on him? If he had told Yoren about the connection, maybe they could have put some black and whites outside of the Baratheon’s house to protect her.

And why _hadn’t_ he told Yoren about the abuse? He wouldn’t have had to give up Tyrion as his source. Was it because of his own personal history? Did he really get someone _killed_ because he wanted to pretend his foster father wasn’t an abusive asshole?

As soon as they got to the crime scene, he pulled Yoren aside. “I should’ve known this would happen,” he admitted.

The lieutenant gave him a sympathetic look, the expression odd on the face Jon was used to seeing either scowling or smirking. “Snow, we can’t blame ourselves when we don’t see these things coming. It doesn’t help us, and it doesn’t help them get justice.”

Jon shook his head stubbornly. “You don’t understand. I _knew_ that there was a pattern. I knew that the Arryns and Baratheons had something in common, but I didn’t _say_ anything.”

Yoren’s eyes hardened at that. “What?”

He swallowed thickly at the sudden shift in his superior’s mood, but didn’t back down. He had made a mistake, a very costly mistake. He more than deserved any punishment that came his way for it.

“I knew Lysa Arryn and Selyse Baratheon both abused their children,” he confessed, unable to stop himself from glancing towards where he could see Selyse’s dead body lying. “And I knew that both Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon knew about their wife’s abuse.”

To his credit, Yoren instantly understood the significance if his deep frown was any indication. “Why didn’t you say anything about the Arryn boy?”

“At the time, it didn’t seem like a relevant piece of information,” he explained, knowing how weak that sounded when a woman had just been murdered. “Not after Lysa was killed. The organized crime angle seemed more credible. I should have said something yesterday after I found out about Selyse’s abuse.”

“Yes, you should have,” the lieutenant agreed, mouth twisted bitterly. “Dammit, Snow! At least tell me you didn’t keep that vital information to yourself to protect any of the Starks.”

“I didn’t!” he told him truthfully. “I doubt the Starks even _knew_ about Lysa abusing Robyn.”

“Then who’s your source?” Yoren demanded.

“Tyrion Lannister,” he admitted.

A thundercloud descended over Yoren’s face. “Tywin Lannister’s son. The same son that has been linked with Clegane and who just _happens_ to be dating Sansa Stark,” he said incredulously. “Fuck, Snow, do you have any fucking idea who this is going to look? Even if it was an honest mistake, there’s no way any of the upper brass buy it.”

A sliver of fear shot through him as he remembered Captain Thorne’s threat to transfer him to Slynt’s vice unit, but he pushed it away. He had gotten a woman killed. He deserved whatever he got.

“I understand, sir,” he said.

Yoren shook his head in disgust. “Look, I know you’re a good detective, Snow, and you’re a good man. I can’t deal with this right now, okay, not with the shit storm the press is going to have with this as soon as they get wind of it,” he said in frustration. “Go home. Report to my office at eight in the morning. Maybe by then I’ll know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with you.”

Jon remained stoic as he nodded and left the scene, able to keep his emotions reined in until he was a good five blocks away from the hotel.

He ran a hand through his wind-swept curls, blinking back tears as he looked around the familiar, yet unfamiliar, streets of the Upper East Side. Shit, he was fucked. And he fucking _deserved_ it. Fuck, he had gotten a woman _killed_.

He needed to talk to someone, he was smart enough to realize before his guilt and panic could crush him. He pulled out his phone and punched the only number he could think to call.

 

#

 

“So why are you sitting here with me instead of with your new boyfriend?” Ygritte asked as soon as she sat down across from him with her coffee.

Jon frowned. “How did you know I got back together with Robb?”

She rolled her eyes. “I knew you were going to get back together with Stark the minute you accepted the assignment. You managed to stay in love with him for ten years. If you didn’t at least fuck him after all of that, I’d start to question your sanity, Snow.”

He sighed heavily. “I fucked up, Ygritte. I _really_ fucked up.”

She leant forward, brow furrowed in concern. “What happened?”

“I found a connection between the victims but didn’t tell anybody,” Jon explained, shaking his head bitterly. “I didn’t think it was _important_. And now, because I didn’t say anything, someone else is dead.”

“You made a mistake,” Ygritte stated with a frown. “It happens. You can’t beat yourself up about it. And if no one else caught it either—”

“No one else _knew_ about it!” he cried. “I was the only one with the information! And to make things worse, my source is connected to Robb’s sister, and it’s going to look bad to the upper brass.”

She curled her lip up. “Of course it is,” she sneered. “It’s always about appearances with them.”

“Alliser Thorne threatened to transfer me to Slynt’s unit to do deep cover,” Jon confessed.

Ygritte’s jaw dropped in horror. “You better damn well quit if you’re transferred!” she cried. Her eyes narrowed when he only shrugged in answer. “Jon Snow, you know that over half the cops that go undercover in Slynt’s unit get made and then killed! And if Thorne is sending you there as punishment, you can bet he’s hoping you end up the same way!”

“What am I supposed to do, Ygritte? Quit with no recommendations from any of my superiors?” he asked in resignation. “What kind of job prospects would I have after that?”

She didn’t look impressed with the argument. “I’d rather see you waiting tables than dead.”

“It’d be no more than I deserved,” he pointed out. “My actions got a woman killed, after all.”

“Failing to stop a killer is _not_ the same as getting someone killed,” she argued hotly. “I know you feel guilty, but you’ve got to stop thinking that. Besides, getting yourself killed won’t help bring that woman back.”

Jon knew she was right. Still, he really didn’t know if he could be that cavalier about quitting his job.

At his silence, she softened a bit. “What does Robb think of all of this?” she asked, going for a different angle.

He made a face. “I haven’t told him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I already know what he’d say,” he shot back testily. “He’d say it wasn’t my fault and that he wanted me to be safe.”

“So exactly what I said,” Ygritte said blandly. “And you knew what I was going to say too. So why get me to say it and not him?”

He sighed. “I think I’ve asked Robb to carry enough of my emotional baggage for now.”

She gave him a considering look. “It’s serious, is it, with you and Stark?”

Jon flushed a bit at that, remembering Robb’s promise about always having him from this morning. “Yeah.”

“Then I’m fairly certain he won’t mind,” she said knowingly. “Now call him and have him pick you up from here, because I can’t in good conscience let you go home alone right now. Not with you talking about how you deserve to die and all.”

He scowled. “I’m not suicidal, Ygritte.”

She snorted. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I don’t want to die,” he stated forcefully, a little offended at the insinuation. Even in his darkest times, those days where Aerys beat him so hard that he barely move or those nights during college where he missed Robb so much it hurt, he had never considered suicide as an option. He certainly wasn’t going to throw his life away now that it was finally worth living.

She smirked in satisfaction. “Good. Now call your boyfriend, go home with him, and figure out a plan in case you _do_ get transferred to Slynt’s unit.”

Knowing there was no use arguing, he picked up his phone to do as she said.

tbc…


	12. Chapter Twelve

To her displeasure, Ygritte had to get back to work before Robb got to the diner. Jon was grateful. He wasn’t entirely sure what his former partner would have told his boyfriend, but he was sure it would only worry Robb unnecessarily.

And considering the worried pucker on his brow as he walked into the diner, Robb really didn’t need more of a reason to worry about Jon.

Robb’s eyes found him and he hurried over, dropping into the same side of the booth as Jon instead of the opposite bench as he had expected. Jon was grateful and all but melted into Robb’s side when the other wrapped an arm around him. He hadn’t even known how on edge he still was until he relaxed under his boyfriend’s touch.

“What happened?” Robb asked softly.

“I made a mistake,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I might lose my job.”

“Oh, thank God,” came the unexpected relieved reply. Jon looked at him in shock, and Robb quickly backpedalled sheepishly. “Not that you might lose your job! That sucks. It’s just… when you called when you should have been working and you sounded so… off… I was afraid that you were in danger or had found out that someone in my family was in danger and I just…”

“I get it,” Jon assured him, feeling awful. “I’m sorry. It’s horrible, but I guess I keep losing sight of the fact that you’ve had two family members murdered in the past two weeks.”

He was a terrible person. Robb had had both his aunt and uncle ripped away from him in such a short time. How could he be so selfish as to be so caught up in his own mess that he lost sight of that?

He moved to straighten in his seat, figuring that the first thing he could do was to stop _literally_ leaning on Robb, but the other man tightened his grip on him.

“I think both of our lives have been kinda turned upside down in the past couple of weeks,” Robb remarked, pulling Jon closer to press a kiss to his temple. “But we have each other back now, which means we can help each other through difficult times.”

Jon gave him a dissatisfied look. “Then how come we only seem to be focusing on _my_ difficult times?”

“Because my difficult times are shared by my family, which gives me plenty of support,” he replied matter-of-factly before his voice took on a sad tone. “And I don’t think you’ve had that kind of support since we broke up in high school.”

He winced at that but couldn’t deny its truth. Sure, he had kept up a casual friendship with Sam through the years, and he had had his friends from work like Ygritte and Grenn, but he didn’t let himself depend on them anymore than he had to.

That was his own fault, he knew. He had shut himself off from the world after high school, believing he didn’t deserve happiness after he had thrown it away out of fear. He was slowly forgiving himself for that with Robb’s help, though he wasn’t quite sure he was there yet. 

“Will you take me home?” he asked in a small voice.

“Sure,” Robb said with a soft smile.

Jon stood up after Robb and allowed the other man to take his hand and lead him out of the diner and down the street to his car. A comfortable silence settled over them, which allowed Jon time to think more about the investigation.

Tyrion Lannister had told him about Robyn Arryn’s abuse. He had also said that one abuse victim always knew another. Jon really wasn’t sure how true that was. _He_ certainly had never been able to pinpoint another abuse victim. Not that he had ever tried.

He usually tried to block out those parts of his childhood.

But if Tyrion’s actions with Sansa were anything to go by, then the dwarf wasn’t one to sit by and let abuse just go on. However, with Sansa, he had just gotten her away, and it _had_ been Tyrion who had told Jon about Robyn’s abuse, something he probably never would have found out otherwise. If he had anything to do with the murders, why would he give Jon the clue that linked them together?

The unfamiliar streets around him finally broke him out of his thoughts. “This isn’t the way to my apartment.”

“That’s because it’s the way to _my_ apartment,” Robb told him. He shot him a smirk. “You told me to take you home. You didn’t specify _which_ home. There’s a great Thai place that delivers to my place, and I guarantee my bed is more comfortable.”

“Oh, I see,” Jon teased. “You’re just trying to get me into your bed.”

“I meant to _sleep._ You look exhausted,” he said with a roll of his eyes before leering at Jon. “Although…”

“A nap sounds nice,” he replied calmly before laughing at Robb’s mock put-out expression. “What were you doing before I called?” Robb didn’t answer for a few moments, prompting Jon to look at him to see him chewing his bottom lip. He frowned. “What?”

Robb sighed. “I was having lunch with Uncle Rhaegar and Aunt Lyanna at their hotel.”

Jon furrowed his brow, not sure what about that would make Robb reluctant to tell him before he realized, “You were talking about me.”

“I didn’t _tell_ them anything,” he insisted, shooting him an earnest glance before focusing back on the road. “I would _never_ betray your confidence. I just… wanted to see what they knew.”

From the scowl on Robb’s face, he had found out _exactly_ how much Rhaegar had known.

“Don’t blame Rhaegar,” Jon told him. “He had to choose between protecting me or Dany. I don’t blame him for choosing Dany.”

“Bullshit,” Robb growled, grip tightening on the steering wheel. “ _Bullshit!_ ” He looked at Jon with blazing blue eyes. “He should have _tried_! You could’ve _died_ , Jon! Not to mention all the pain you had to go through!”

“He didn’t put me through that pain,” he pointed out.

His boyfriend scoffed. “No, he just left you with an abusive asshole and closed his eyes towards it.”

Jon sighed. Robb wasn’t going to let this go. On one hand, it warmed his heart knowing that Robb was so upset on his behalf. On the other, though, he knew that dwelling on the past wasn’t going to change anything. “Why weren’t you at work?” he asked, deciding it was best to change the subject. “With the murders, I would have thought your uncle’s security firm would be extra busy.”

“Oh, it is,” Robb replied, relaxing a bit. “But I had to help my parents with some of the arrangements for Uncle Jon this morning, and then the wake is tomorrow and the funeral the next day, so I have the next few days off. Don’t worry, though. This afternoon and tonight, I’m all yours.”

“Shouldn’t you be using that time to be with your family? And don’t say I’m your family,” he told him, knowing exactly what Robb was going to say. “I mean the family who has also lost their aunt and uncle.”

Robb pouted for a moment before he suddenly smirked mischievously. “What I’m hearing you say is that you want Stark sibling game night.”

That surprised a laugh out of Jon. “Is that such a good idea?” he asked, remembering the Stark family game nights he had been part of in high school. “It’d be a shame if half of you weren’t speaking to the other half during the wake.”

“We’re all adults now! We should be able to get through a game night without fighting!” Robb argued. Jon shot him a look. He tilted his head in acknowledgement as he pulled into an underground garage. “Okay, maybe we can’t, but it’d be fun to try! And with you there, we’d finally have an even number again!”

“Fine,” he said grudgingly, more for show than anything else. Jon couldn’t deny that it was an appealing idea. He couldn’t think of a better way to forget about his work troubles. Well, he _could_ …

He eyed Robb speculatively as he put the car in park. He let the other man lead him to an elevator, barely taking in the mahogany and gold trappings as they rose to the eighteenth floor and stepped out into a small entrance hall leading to a single door.

Jon didn’t bother looking around the penthouse once they were inside, instead pressing close to Robb and pulling him into a hungry kiss. 

Robb made a noise of surprise before groaning and wrapping his arms tightly around Jon. He sighed into the kiss, relishing the feel of Robb’s taller and broader body surrounding him. He snuck his hands around Robb’s waist and under his t-shirt. Robb nipped at his lower lip in response, letting go of Jon for just a moment to push the sports coat off his shoulders and fumble with the buttons of his dress shirt.

Jon broke the kiss in frustration, batting away Robb’s hands and quickly getting his shirt and undershirt off. His boyfriend gazed at him with naked lust in his eyes before leaning down to worry his clavicle.

“Robb,” he gasped, tugging at the other’s t-shirt uselessly as he arched into him. He cried out sharply as Robb’s hand came up to toy with one of his nipples. “Need you.”

Robb pulled back with pupils blown wide. “Bed,” he panted, grabbing his hand and pulling him deeper into the penthouse. 

“I thought… you just… wanted to nap…” Robb said breathlessly later as he tried to catch his breath.

Jon chuckled as he turned into Robb, ignoring the sticky mess between them for now. “Are you really complaining?”

“God, no,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to Jon’s temple as he wrapped an arm around him. “You have my permission to forego napping and go straight to sex whenever you want.”

“Well, if you still plan on inviting your siblings over, we should probably shower,” Jon told him, smiling as Robb groaned.

“Way to ruin the afterglow with thoughts of those brats,” he said, burying his face in Jon’s curls.

“It was _your_ idea,” he quipped with a smirk. “You don’t _have_ to invite them over.”

“You’re not getting out of game night that easily,” Robb warned, rolling off the bed and pulling Jon up. “Come on. We’re going to shower before inviting my brothers and sisters over and then we’re kicking their asses at Pictionary.”

Jon laughed as he followed Robb into the bathroom, heart feeling lighter than he thought possible.

tbc…


	13. Chapter Thirteen

“In what universe is that a spaceship?” Arya scoffed, glaring at her brother’s boyfriend. “It looks like a sombrero!”

Jon felt sorry for the quiet Jojen Reed, who obviously did not know how to handle Arya’s fiery wrath. The younger man definitely had his respect for braving a Stark game night despite his reserved nature.

“It looks more like a spaceship than that thing you drew earlier looked like a horse,” Bran retorted in defense of his boyfriend. “Lay off him!”

“He just made us _lose_!” she protested.

“To be fair,” Margaery placated, wrapping an arm around her waist and giving her a sweet smile. “We’ve been losing the entire game.”

Arya pouted. “Only because Robb and Jon have been cheating.”

“Hey! We have not!” Robb protested in amused indignation. Jon just shook his head and chuckled, relaxing into Robb has he defended both of their honors. “Don’t be a sore loser, brat.”

“You have so,” she replied with a smirk. “You’ve always been able to half-read each other’s minds. Don’t think I didn’t notice that when one of you was drawing, the other always guessed what it was right away.”

“It’s not my fault that you and your girlfriend don’t know each other as well as Jon and I do,” Robb teased her.

“I think we know each other pretty well,” Margaery quipped with a satisfied smirk.

“Ugh, can you not?” Rickon groaned, dropping his face in his hands. “I _really_ don’t need to know about my sister’s sex life. We _just_ ate!”

That wasn’t quite true. Though the containers their Thai food came in were still littering various surfaces of the large living room of Robb’s large penthouse, they had been sitting there for at least two hours as they played round after round of Pictionary.

“If we’re going to allow significant others at these things, we need a rule about mentioning things like that!” Rickon continued in a disgusted tone. They all laughed at that.

“Maybe you’re just upset that you’re single,” Sansa suggested with a smirk. Jon decided that he liked seeing this side of Sansa. When they were growing up and they had these game nights, she would participate grudgingly and acted above their laughter and teasing. 

The youngest Stark sibling scowled at her. “You’re single, too,” he reminded.

Jon could see that Sansa was thrown by the remark. Considering how badly her marriage had ended and how she was currently secretly seeing a man who had been hired to protect her, Jon could see how she might be at a loss on how to response to Rickon’s comment.

“Well, now that Pictionary is done, how about we clear up a bit before beginning the next game?” he suggested, standing up and beginning to clear off the coffee table.

Robb stood to help him, waving off his brother and sisters and telling them to pick out the next game instead. Jon smiled at him as they carried the empty cartons and soda cans into the kitchen, Jon still a little loss in the grand penthouse. It was probably at least four times the size of his little apartment, with high ceilings and an entire living room wall made of glass.

That wall had made Jon blush bright red when he had noticed it after their shower. He had jumped Robb in full view of a giant window. Thankfully, Robb had been quick to assure him that the glass was tinted in a way that made it impossible to see through from the outside.

Not that it would matter, really, being eighteen stories up, but it made Jon feel much better.

They tossed the trash in the appropriate bins, and Jon turned to head back to the living room before Robb grabbed him and pulled him into a gentle kiss. He let himself melt into the kiss of a moment before stepping away with a mock stern look.

“None of that. Your siblings and their significant others are in the other room,” he said, wagging his finger at him.

Robb pouted. “You’re no fun.”

Jon smirked at him. “That’s not what you said earlier.”

“Yeah, well, earlier you let me strip you naked and have my wicked way with you,” he leered, reaching for him once more.

Laughing, Jon stepped out of his reach and fled to the living room, Robb following him with a put-out expression

“We’re playing Taboo,” Bran told them when they got back, holding up the box triumphantly.

“And we’re switching up the teams,” Arya declared.

“That’s makes things easier anyway,” Robb told her with a grin, settling down on the sofa with Jon and cuddling with him obnoxiously. “That means I don’t have to sit away from my honeybun.”

“Yeah, we’re breaking up,” Jon deadpanned.

“You’re not allowed to break up again,” Rickon teased, winking and nudging Robb with his elbow. “Robb was horrible after you broke up the first time.”

Jon felt a wave of guilt wash through him, but he tried to keep it off his face. He must not have succeeded very well because Robb quickly changed the subject.

“So, Taboo!” his boyfriend proclaimed with exaggerated excitement. “Are we passing clockwise?” he asked, grinning at Jon. “That means I get to buzz you.”

He raised a brow at him. “Only if I say a tabooed word!”

“Speaking of taboo,” Margaery cut in, fixing her sharp eyes on Jon. “I heard a rumor that Selyse Baratheon was murdered. That’s _four_ murders,” she said, words loaded with significance. “Is there a serial killer out there, Jon?”

He hesitated slightly before answering. He was in trouble enough with his superiors without revealing sensitive police information, but all four victims had been people within the Stark and Tyrells’ social circles. Surely they deserved to know _something_.

“As far as I know, the investigation hasn’t shifted to focus on finding a serial killer. And I don’t think it’s a textbook serial killer,” he replied, choosing his words carefully. “It seems more like a spree killer to me, who’s targeting a specific type of victim and killing them when he gets an opportunity to do so without being caught.”

The words settled around them in the tense silence they left behind. Jojen was the first to speak. “What’s the difference between a serial killer and a spree killer?” 

“Mostly the cooling off period between the murders,” Jon explained, brow furrowing as he considered the murders. “Though the type of targeting and killing is more like a serial killer. I don’t really know what to classify him as,” he admitted with a shake of his head. “I haven’t really been on homicide very long.”

“Who is he targeting?” Sansa asked worriedly. “I mean, he went after Uncle Jon and Aunt Lysa, could he come after any of us?”

“No,” he answered immediately without even thinking. There was no way the killer would go after any one in this room. And he wouldn’t go after their parents either. The Starks and the Tyrells doted on their children.

With a sick feeling, he remembered that Lysa Arryn had seemed to dote on her child as well.

No one here was a target. The killer so far had only targeted parents of the abused kids. Although, that might only be because those were the only ones the killer had gotten to. Would he blame Ned and Catelyn Stark for not seeing Robyn’s abuse? Would he blame the butler Davos for not doing more for Shireen? Or would he decide that Robyn and Shireen had both gotten justice and move on to the next abused kid?

And if that child _was_ abused by their parents, was what the killer doing just?

Jon bit his lip. It was a horrible think to even consider, but he couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to learn Aerys had been killed. He couldn’t say he wouldn’t feel relief. 

“Jon?” Robb called softly, pulling him out of his dark thoughts.

“Sorry,” he said with a shake of his head. “Got a bit lost thinking about the investigation.”

“Well, let’s not talk about that anymore,” Arya stated imperiously, grabbing the game buzzer and holding the button down to emit a drawn out and obnoxious honk. “Let’s play!”

Jon was happy that the order they were sitting in meant he was on Margaery, Jojen, and Sansa’s team. His head was far from in the game, and he knew Arya and Bran, having already lost one game, wouldn’t be so happy with him if they were on their team. Thankfully, his teammates seemed fine with him spacing out a bit.

And although Margaery was shockingly good at the game, with Jon weighing them down, they unfortunately lost in the end.

Arya and Bran, though, were yawning too much to gloat, and Robb was too busy looking at Jon in concern.

“Why don’t we call it a night?” Robb suggested. “Anyone staying here tonight?”

They all declined and then there was a bit of clamoring and scrambling as they all wished each other good night and left.

Arya stopped before leaving to hug Jon tightly. “I’m glad you’re back,” she told him as she stepped back. “Don’t leave again, though.”

Jon smiled at her. “I promise I won’t.”

“Good,” she stated before leaving arm in arm with Margaery.

“How does you mother feel about having three gay children?” he asked Robb after the door had shut behind them all.

“She’s fine with it. It’s quite fashionable in her circles these days,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. “As long as we don’t start a scandal, she couldn’t care less.”

Privately, Jon wondered how much a scandal Sansa’s current relationship would cause, but he kept quiet about that, not wanting to betray her confidence. Not even with Robb unless he had to.

“I should probably get going to,” he said instead.

“No,” Robb protested, pouting playfully as he pulled Jon closer. “Don’t leave me.”

Jon laughed at his boyfriend’s over-the-top antics. “I’ve got work in the morning.”

“So? Stay and I’ll drive you in.”

“I don’t have any clothes here,” he pointed out.

“Your pants from earlier are fine,” Robb countered. “And my shirts won’t be that big on you, especially with your jacket on. Next argument?”

“I don’t have another,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. “I guess that means I’m staying. But only to _sleep_ ,” he stressed. “It’s already late. I can’t be falling asleep in my meeting with Yoren in the morning. I want to be awake when he kicks me off the case.”

Robb frowned. “You really think he’ll fire you?”

“He won’t _fire_ me, but he could kick me off the investigation and have me transferred,” Jon explained, giving him a rueful look. “I _really_ fucked up.”

“Transfer, though, that’s not so bad, right?” he asked, obviously trying to be positive.

“If the upper brass gets their way, I’d be transferred to the most dangerous undercover unit in the city,” he told him. Robb’s eyes widened in fear at that, and he gripped Jon’s arms tightly. “I’d quit before that, though,” he was quick to assure. “I don’t know what I’d _do_ after I quit, but I’d figure it out.”

“What could you have possibly done to make it okay to risk your life like that?” Robb said, horrified.

“One of my superiors just doesn’t like me,” Jon replied, not wanting to say that it was because he was too close to the Starks. “And if Yoren lets him know how badly I screwed up…”

“What did you do? What was so bad?” he asked in a gentle tone.

Jon sighed. “I figured out how the victims were connected, but I had the information to connect them before the last victim died and I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t think it was _important_ ,” he spat bitterly. “Someone _died_ because of _me_!”

“No,” Robb said firmly, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. “Someone died because someone decided to murder her. That someone was _not_ you.”

“The worst thing is that I can _understand_ the killer’s motives,” he admitted with his face hidden in Robb’s neck. “He’s killing people who hurt their kids.”

Robb jerked back to look at him in shock. “Uncle Jon and Aunt Lysa weren’t hurting Robyn.”

Jon winced, forgetting once again that half the victims were related to his boyfriend. “Jon wasn’t,” he replied softly. “Lysa was, though.”

Horror filled Robb’s eyes before quickly being replaced with disgust. “How fucking blind is my family that we noticed either of you were being hurt?” he said in self-loathing.

“You’re not blind,” Jon told him with a small smile. “You’re all just too good to even consider something so horrible happening to someone you love.”

“Which just means we let them down,” Robb remarked bitterly.

“Hey, you’ve never let me down,” he assured him, wrapping a hand around the back of Robb’s neck and pulling him down gently to press their foreheads together and look him in the eye. “I’ve always known that if I needed help, I could go to you or your family. Even after breaking your heart and being gone so long, I knew that if I _really_ needed help, all I had to do was find one of you Starks.”

“You _did_ need my help,” Robb insisted.

“But I wasn’t ready to accept it,” Jon said with a sad smile. “That’s not your fault.”

He shook his head and groaned. “God, I’m going to have to tell my parents. They’re planning on taking Robyn in. They need to make sure he gets therapy or something.”

Jon nodded. “That’s a good idea,” he said, feeling a little hypocritical knowing that he himself never sought any counseling. 

Robb furrowed his brow. “But if Uncle Jon wasn’t abusing Robyn, why kill him?”

“He knew about it,” Jon answered. “He was trying to get him away from her, but I guess the killer didn’t really care.”

Any sympathies he may have had for the killer evaporated with that. It was one thing to kill an abuser. That might have been morally justifiable, even if legally condemnable, but killing someone just for _knowing_ and not doing enough to help?

He looked up at Robb, remembering how Sam had been so _sure_ the other man had known about his abuse and done nothing. If Sam, someone who knew them both fairly well, could make that kind of mistake, why couldn’t the killer?

“Can you and your family just be careful about what you drink?” he asked abruptly. “Just in case the killer thought any of you knew and didn’t do anything about it.”

Robb nodded seriously. “We’ll be careful,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to temple before leading him to the bedroom. “Now, you’re exhausted and didn’t really get that nap earlier. Let’s go to bed.”

Jon followed him without protest, his harrowing day catching up with him as soon as his head hit the pillow and he immediately fell into a deep sleep.

tbc…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of plot movement in this chapter, but we've got to pace ourselves ;)


	14. Chapter Fourteen

He entered Yoren’s office the next morning with trepidation. He really didn’t want to lose his job. It didn’t matter that he had enough savings to get by for a while. It didn’t even matter that Robb had taken him in his arms this morning and assured him that, no matter what happened, he would _never_ have to worry about money, something that had warmed his heart despite knowing from his childhood that money was no substitute for love.

None of that mattered because he had worked _hard_ to get where he was. Despite the knowledge that he had screwed up and deserved to feel the consequences of that, he didn’t want to be forced to throw it all around to save his own life.

“Oh, get that worried look off your face, Snow,” Yoren told him gruffly as soon as he shut the door behind him. “You screwed up, you know it, and you won’t do it again.”

Jon was taken aback. “Sir?”

The lieutenant gestured at him impatiently. “You’re lucky the upper brass aren’t as good of detectives as either of us. None of them even bothered to question why we didn’t make the connection sooner, and you better not make me regret not volunteering the information,” he warned sternly.

“I won’t, sir,” he said, swallowing thickly. Yoren had gone out on a limb to save his skin and keep him on the investigation. He _definitely_ wouldn’t let him down.

“Good,” he nodded. “I _should_ make you sort through cold cases with Tollet and Hornblower and try to our victim zero, but since you’ve already gained a rapport with Tyrion Lannister, I think I’ll let you interview him and his wife instead. Let’s start with the wife.”

Before Jon could even process what was happening, he was sitting across from Shae Lannister at an interrogation table.

If someone had asked him to describe the type of person someone like Tyrion Lannister would marry, he would not have described the woman in front of him. Maybe it was Jon’s knowledge of the dwarf’s father that colored his expectations, but he had thought Tyrion’s wife would be meek, mild, and, given the dwarf’s history of abuse, non-threatening.

Shae Lannister was none of those things.

While undoubtably beautiful, her dark eyes were as sharp as daggers, and when she spoke, there was steel underlying her heavily-accented words. Jon knew instantly that this was a woman who had no qualms whatsoever in doing whatever was necessary to keep herself and her loved ones safe. 

For Sansa’s sake, he was grateful, knowing that Shae had been partially responsible for saving his boyfriend’s sister from her abusive ex. For her own sake, though, he hoped that she hadn’t decided a killing spree was necessary.

“Why am I being treated like a criminal?” she demanded to know. “My husband and I have done nothing wrong.”

“We just have some questions, Mrs. Lannister,” Jon replied in a calm voice. “Your husband gave us some information about the Arryn and Baratheon murders, and we’re just hoping one of you has more information to give us.”

“If we did, we would have told you already,” Shae snapped before narrowing her eyes. “You think we had something to do with those killings well we didn’t.”

“You are aware that the victims were all child abusers, and your husband was a victim of child abuse,” he said, trying a different tactic.

She rolled her eyes. “The only child abuser Tyrion would want dead would be his father.”

She had a point, Jon had to give her that. If the point was revenge for his own childhood, Tyrion would have definitely gone after Tywin first. Or at least second, if he wanted to throw suspicion off of himself. Why kill four people out of revenge or misguided justice or whatever, and not go after the person who tortured you during your childhood?

Then again, wasn’t _he_ a detective for similar reason? It wasn’t as if he had gone after his abuser.

“Maybe he’s working up to him,” Jon said with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. 

“He is _not_ ,” Shae cried angrily, slapping a hand down onto the metal table. “Tyrion is _not_ a murderer!”

From the genuine outrage in her eyes, Jon was inclined to believe her. Especially since Tyrion was far too short to have stabbed Lysa Arryn or Selyse Baratheon. It didn’t mean he didn’t have someone else do his dirty work for him, though.

“Can you tell me where you both were yesterday morning?” he asked.

“I was shopping,” she told him haughtily. “Tyrion was working. He’s a professor, you know.”

Jon did know, but only because Yoren had given him a quick run down of both Lannisters before throwing him into the interrogation room to let him sink or swim. They could easily check to see if _Professor_ Lannister was at his university at the time of the murders, but Shae’s shopping alibi was a bit more flimsy.

Deciding he wouldn’t get anything more from the man’s wife, Jon excused himself to go speak with Tyrion himself.

The dwarf smiled pleasantly when he walked in, disarming Jon a bit but he kept his face impassive. “I’m surprised it took you this long to have me brought in, detective. When I heard Judge Baratheon had died in the same manner as Jon Arryn, it was quite easy to put the pieces together.”

His smug arrogance grated on Jon’s nerves, but he didn’t let it show. “You could have called and helped clue us in,” he told him as he took a seat.

“I honestly thought you were smart enough to figure it out for yourselves,” Tyrion said in an overly innocent voice. “As a citizen of this great city, I was rather disappointed to be wrong.”

“I’d think you’d be happy we don’t seem to be smart enough to catch the killer,” he quipped.

He laughed at that. “Is that a thinly veiled accusation? Am I supposed to be happy because you think _I_ am the murderer? Your investigation really is off-track if I’m your best suspect.”

“You knew about Robyn Arryn when even his family didn’t,” Jon reasoned. “And you obviously knew about Shireen Baratheon.”

“And I also told you that one abuse victim always can spot another,” Tyrion pointed out. “It’s how I knew your boyfriend’s sister was being abused and how I was able to help her.”

“Well what other abused children do you know about on the Upper East Side?” he asked. “It would be helpful to have a list of potential victims. Unless, of course, you’d rather not disclose the people you intend to kill.”

Tyrion narrowed his eyes and his smile slipped off his face. “I’d be happy to assist in the investigation, of course,” he replied smoothly. “I don’t pretend to know _everyone_ who has been a child abuse victim in our social circles, but I can give you a few names.”

“I’m listening,” Jon said cooly, leaning back in his chair and arching a brow. He knew Yoren was behind the glass recording the conversation and taking his own notes. He wouldn’t have to worry about taking down the names.

“Well, there’s obviously you,” Tyrion began, smirking at Jon as his face no doubt paled. He had hoped to keep that from coming out in front of his colleagues. “And of course your foster brothers. The only others that come to mind are Ramsay Bolton and Samwell Tarly.”

Jon started at Sam’s name. His friend had never told him he had been abused. Then again, _he_ had never told Sam about _his_ abuse.

Sam’s parents had died a few years ago, within a few months of each other, and Sam had been pretty cut up about it. He didn’t know who Ramsay’s mother was as she had never been a part of his life, but he knew that Roose Bolton was still very much alive and most likely a potential target for their killer.

“Now, detective,” Tyrion continued with that smug little smile of his. “If you aren’t going to charge me with a crime, I do believe I’m free to go.”

Jon scowled at him. “We’d appreciate it if you stayed in town until our investigation is concluded.”

“I live to serve,” he replied drolly, hopping out of his chair and breezing past Jon and out the door.

Yoren was waiting for him when Jon followed him out. “You might’ve warned me that your foster father was a potential vic,” he told him gruffly.

Jon flushed in shame and looked down. “I don’t like talking about it.”

“Well, you might have to if the asshole ends up dead,” he snorted. “Come on, let’s see what Tollet and Hornblower have got.”

“Absolutely nothing,” Edd answered in disgust when they asked them what they found. “The stabbing pattern doesn’t match any of unsolved murders in the city.”

“Branch out to check out Jersey and Connecticut too,” Yoren told them.

Tormund groaned at the added work, but Jon settled down at a nearby desk to help them sift the files. Thankfully, all the cold cases were catalogued electronically. It at least made things a _little_ easier.

They worked straight through lunch, though, and were still unable to find anything. At 3:30, Jon stood and stretched before slinging his jacket back on.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Edd asked him in a disgruntled tone, squinting up from his computer screen to look at him.

“Jon Arryn’s wake,” he answered. “What better place to hear all the gossip about the deceased? It could help us catch his killer.”

“I’ll take cold cases over that any day,” Tormund commented with a shake of his head. “Dead bodies freak me out.”

“You work _homicide_ ,” Tollet pointed out with a roll of his eyes.

“You don’t see dead bodies in the station, do you?” he shot back. “I can deal with them on the scene, but I’m not gonna go drink coffee and eat cookies while a dead body is being displayed like some weird piece of art.”

Jon left them to their bickering, figuring it was best to not get involved. He got the subway to Queens and walked the few blocks to his apartment, planning to shower, eat, and get to the wake around seven.

His plans were dashed, though, by a text from Robb. _Pick you up at 5_.

He furrowed his brow. _Only family is supposed to be there that early._

_You are family_ , came the answer, along with an emoji that Jon was pretty sure conveyed exasperation. 

He rolled his eyes, but texted back, _Did we get married and I forgot?_

_Yes, and it hurts me that you don’t remember :P_ , Robb replied.

He chuckled to himself at that. _I’ll be ready_.

This meant that he had less time to get ready and eat, but he knew Robb would need his support at the wake. Robb had been trying to ease the pressure of the arrangements off of his parents’ shoulders, but Jon knew that it couldn’t be easy on him.

Robb was five minutes early when he knocked on his door, looking amazing as usual in his black suit. “Thanks for coming with me,” he murmured as he greeted Jon with a soft kiss. 

“I planned on coming anyway,” Jon replied.

He gave him a knowing look and a grateful smile. “But you wouldn’t be coming so early,” he remarked as they walked out the apartment together. “And I don’t blame you. Wakes aren’t exactly cheerful.”

“Well, the company is good at least,” he replied, reaching out to grab Robb’s hand.

His boyfriend squeezed it. “Yeah, at least there’s that.”

The atmosphere at the funeral parlor was far from festive when they arrived, something was obviously to be expected. The Starks were gathered in a small receiving room adjoined the the viewing hall, with Robyn Arryn, small and pale, seated between Ned and Catelyn. Rhaegar was there with Lyanna as well. Catelyn and Lysa’s brother Edmure was also with them, though Jon didn’t see their father. It was sad to think that the only family Jon Arryn left behind, other than little Robyn, was related to him only by marriage.

With a pang, Jon realized that it was something he had in common with the other man.

There were muted greetings to Robb and Jon before the funeral director came out and led them to the viewing room, allowing the family time to see the body and mourn privately before the wake was open to the numerous friends Arryn was sure to have now that he was dead.

Even though it had been ten years since he had seen the man, Jon still felt tears prick his eyes at the sight of him lying in the casket. Arya sniffled at his side, and Robb’s eyes look conspicuously glassy as the family lined up to pay their final respects. Jon grabbed his hand and squeezed comforting. Robb smiled tightly back even as a tear escaped from his right eye.

Arya sniffled again, and Jon reached his other arm out to wrap around her. She stepped closer to him with a grateful look as they all three stood in front of the coffin.

Jon wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do, having never really been to a funeral before, so he just stood there quietly, letting Robb and Arya have their moments with their uncle as he supported them. Robb nodded to him after a moment, and they both led a silently crying Arya to a settee nearby, all three of them squeezing into it with Jon in the middle.

The other mourners were just being allowed in with Jon felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He was tempted to ignore it, but he knew that it could only be work. He was sure respect for the dead took a backseat to giving the dead justice.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured to Robb and Arya, swiftly walking outside to stand on the street, away from the hushed voices of the wake attendees. “Snow,” he answered, thankful it hadn’t gone to voicemail yet.

“Jon, we’ve got a lead,” Tollet’s voice told him. “It’s not much of a lead, but it’s the best we’ll like to get.”

“What is it?”

“An unsolved murder out of Jersey City. Man was stabbed in the back once, no evidence of fleeing,” Edd replied. “And get this, all his kids had been taken away by child services a few weeks. Seems to fit our pattern.”

“What was the victim’s name?” Jon asked.

“Craster Keep.”

It wasn’t a name Jon had ever heard before, and he certainly didn’t know anyone in the Arryns’ or Baratheons’ social circle who lived in Jersey City. “I’ll keep an ear out for anything that might connect our victims to this one,” he said before hanging up. 

The murders were too similar to just be coincidence, but they just didn’t add up.

“Jon!” a familiar voice called out in greeting. Sam gave him a sheepish look as he approached, a pretty brunette on his arm that Jon had never seen before. “Sorry, guess I shouldn’t speak so loudly around a wake.”

Jon smiled. Whatever animosity Sam had born him for getting back together with Robb had apparently disappeared if his friends jovial greeting was anything to go by. He was glad. He didn’t like fighting with Sam. Thankfully, Sam was far too nice of a person to hold a grudge.

“I don’t think they’ll mind too much,” he assured him before smiling at the woman next to him. “And who’s this? Sam, you didn’t tell me you’d gotten yourself a girlfriend!”

Sam blushed. “This is Gilly,” he replied. “Gilly, this is my good friend Jon.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, giving him a shy smile.

“You as well,” Jon replied. “I should probably get back in before Robb or Arya hunts me down. Are you two coming as well?”

“We’ll be a moment,” Sam told him, looking at the door apprehensively. Jon knew that the other man didn’t particularly care for dead bodies. It was why he hadn’t gone to medical school like his father had wanted. The idea of touching cadavers had freaked him out too much. “You go on ahead.”

He nodded. “Alright. See you inside.”

tbc…


	15. Chapter Fifteen

The bleak weather matched the atmosphere of the funeral the next morning. It was obvious that most of the attendees were on edge with Jon Arryn’s murderer still at large, and those closest to the man found it difficult to celebrate the man’s life with the pall of his murder hanging over them.

The mood improved a bit when the mourners closest to Arryn adjourned to the luncheon at the Tully house. Of course, Jon was well aware that most of those that called on the family were doing so just to be seen doing so. He did smile gratefully at Sam and Gilly, who had stepped in to help Edmure’s wife Roslin and her half-sister Arwyn manage the kitchen.

At least there were some people who were genuine in their sympathies.

Jon glanced at his watch and sighed. “I should get to work,” he said in a soft voice, leaning in close to Robb in order to be heard over the din of the house. It seemed that the quiet hush that had held sway over the crowd since the wake had lifted once Arryn was in the ground.

Robb frowned but nodded, standing up with him. “I’ll walk you out,” he told him, placing a hand on the small of his back and leading him through the throng of people in the house. “Will you come to my place after work?” he asked once they were outside.

He gave him an amused smile. “Aren’t you sick of me yet? We’ve spent every night together since we got back together.”

It was odd to think that that had only been a few days ago. Robb had slotted himself so seamlessly into his life that Jon was having a difficult time remembering just what he did in his free time before. The sad answer, he had realized, was that he had done nothing. He had gone from simply existing without Robb to fully _living_ with him.

It probably wasn’t healthy, truth be told, but he’d deal with that thought later.

“I think we spent long enough apart,” Robb said seriously, stepping closer and bringing a hand up to Jon’s cheek. “I don’t want to be apart ever again.”

He had just leaned forward to capture Jon’s lips in a farewell kiss when Arya burst outside in a panic.

“Jon! It’s Uncle Rhaegar!” she cried, the fear in her eyes spurring him into motion.

He quickly pushed his way into the house, making his way to where Ned Stark was telling everyone to stand back while Dr. Luwin knelt over a convulsing Rhaegar. Lyanna was standing nearby, Catelyn’s arms around her as hysterical tears streamed down her face.

Luwin was holding his foster brother down, but seemed uncertain as to what else to do. Jon, though, recognized the symptoms from the research he had done on the case.

“We’ve got to get him to throw up,” he barked at the elderly doctor, who looked at him in shock. “He’s been poisoned,” he hissed, trying to keep his words from being overheard and causing a panic.

Luwin, thankfully, didn’t question him. “Hold his mouth open and tilt his head to the side.”

Jon did as instructed, and Luwin stuck his fingers deep into Rhaegar’s throat until his gag reflex was triggered. Jon wrinkled his nose as the putrid smell of vomit filled his nose, not knowing how the doctor could stand it on his hand. 

“Call an ambulance,” he ordered Sansa, who was standing nearby. She nodded and quickly pulled out her cell phone despite her wide eyes and pale face. “And nobody leave!” he said in a louder voice, eyes roaming the people crowded around, giving them room but still peering at the spectacle in curiosity.

Not that it would do any good. He was sure that whoever had poisoned Rhaegar was long gone. Unless they thought they were clever enough to stay and play innocent.

He gazed at the faces in the crowd, recognizing most of them by family at least. Mormonts, Umbers, Lannisters, Freys, Manderlys, Boltons, Tyrells, Baratheons, Karstarks, Martells, Hightowers, Daynes, and many more that Jon couldn’t readily place. So many present, and most of them rich enough to think they could get away with anything.

He kept his thoughts carefully blank as he called in reinforcements and waited anxiously for them to arrive. Robb stood at his side in silent support. Jon was grateful he didn’t try and speak to him. Talking meant acknowledging what had happened, and Jon, coward that he was, wasn’t ready to face that yet.

Thankfully, it didn’t take Yoren long to arrive with Edd, Tormund, and a slew of beat cops in tow. The lieutenant approached him just as the paramedics were loading Rhaegar in the ambulance.

“Your foster brother,” he said grimly. Jon nodded, throat suddenly tight. Yoren sighed. “You know I have to take you off the official investigation now.” He nodded again. “Take the day, but you’ll officially be on desk duty once you get back.”

From the phrasing, Jon knew that Yoren wasn’t going to keep him from working on the case unofficially, but he couldn’t let himself be relieved.

“It’s a good think you were here,” the lieutenant continued, trying to cheer him up in his own gruff way. “Nobody may have realized it was poison until it was too late if you weren’t.”

Jon nodded again. That seemed to be all that he was able to do now that he was no longer in charge of the scene.

“Go home, Jon. We’ll take it from here.”

Robb wrapped an around his back once Yoren had walked away. “I’ll take you home.”

Jon shook his head. “They’ll need to interview you,” he said, even though the idea that anyone could actually suspect _Robb_ of all people was ridiculous. “And I should probably go to the hospital.”

It was the least he could do when this was _his_ fault.

“Don’t do that,” Robb said seriously, twisting Jon around to glare at him. “Don’t you _dare_ blame yourself for this. You saved Rhaegar’s life, and it’s not your fault that some psycho decided to hurt him because he didn’t protect you better when you were younger. You can blame the asshole who poisoned him, you can blame Aerys, hell, you can even blame Rhaegar himself, but don’t you _dare_ blame yourself.”

Jon couldn’t stop the tears that escaped from his eyes, but luckily Robb pulled him into an embrace and allowed him to hide his face in his shoulder. He didn’t let himself indulge in his boyfriend’s arms for long, though, not when he was very keenly aware that people he worked with were milling around.

“I’ll try,” he told him, feeling like that was the best he could do right now. “I’m still going to the hospital though. Your aunt will need some support while the rest of you are interviewed. Can I still come to your place later?”

He didn’t know if he could go back to his own apartment and be alone with his thoughts. Not if he wanted to keep the guilt from consuming him.

Robb gave him a soft smile. “Of course,” he replied, brushing a kiss to his lips. “I’ll come to the hospital as soon as I’m done here.”

Jon nodded and reluctantly left the Tully estate. He caught the subway to Lenox Hill Hospital, idly thinking that maybe he should invest in a car of his own in order to keep his mind off of other things. When he was working undercover in vice, he hadn’t been assigned a car from the department. Since he wasn’t permanently assigned to homicide, he wouldn’t be assigned a car while he was there either. Even if he _were_ permanently assigned there, he’d only be assigned one if his partner already had one. 

He couldn’t keep relying on public transportation in order to get to and from crime scenes, but he wasn’t really sure he could afford a car on his salary at the moment. Perhaps a small used car…

He let himself consider the subject until he actually reached the hospital, but his guilt slammed into him once he found Lyanna.

If he expected his foster brother’s wife to be weepy, he really should have known better. She may have been hysterical at the sight of Rhaegar convulsing, but now she was pacing the waiting room, reminding Jon of a lioness pacing in her den.

Her grey eyes honed in on him as soon as he stepped into the ICU waiting room. “Jon,” she said, striding towards with deliberate steps. Her arms wrapped around him in a motherly embrace before she released him and gave him an expectant look. “So? Why Rhaegar?” she asked in a no-nonsense voice.

His gaze dropped to his feet. “Because of me,” he admitted quietly, grateful that no one else was in the waiting room. “The killer is targeting the families of abused children,” he choked out. “He’s poisoning the people he thinks should have done more to help them. _Us_ ,” he corrected with a grimace.

“Well, that’s a better reason than most, even if it doesn’t justify murder,” Lyanna admitted ruefully before giving Jon a stern look. “This is _not_ your fault. Rhaegar would be the first to tell you that. And he _will_ tell you that. The doctors say that he expelled enough of the poison from his system that he’s going to be _fine_.”

Jon sagged in relief at that before another horrible thought seized him. “He could go after your family if they thought they knew.” He had already told Robb to make sure his family watched what they drank, but that warning had surely made it to Rhaegar and it hadn’t kept _him_ from being poisoned.

“Well, call me a terrible person, but I certainly hopes he goes after Aerys before he goes after anyone else,” she replied with a scowl. “That man deserves to die if anyone ever did.”

If this investigation had taught him anything, it was that death didn’t really solve anything. Death didn’t stop Robyn or Shireen from bearing the scars, both mental and physical, of their abuse, and it wouldn’t stop him from doing so either. All death did was cause more pain.

“I called Dany,” Lyanna said suddenly with a small smile. “She’s flying out as soon as she can with her fiance. She’s worried about Rhaegar, of course, but she’s excited to see you again.”

Despite his anguish, Jon couldn’t help but return her smile. Dany had always been a spot of sunshine in his childhood. The only bit he had ever had until Robb came along. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed her until Lyanna mentioned her the other day at dinner, and, despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help but think how good it would be to see her again.

“What’s her fiance like?” he asked, curious about the type of man his foster sister had ended up with.

Lyanna snorted. “Tall, dark, and handsome,” she answered with a smirk. “Drogo is built like a linebacker and looks mean as hell until you see him around Dany. A foot and a half shorter than he is and she has him wrapped around her little finger.”

Jon laughed aloud at that. “She always was good at wrapping men around her finger.”

“She certainly always had _you_ wrapped around her finger,” she quipped with a raised brow. “Rhaegar and I honestly thought the two of you were going to end up together. I was shocked when Ned told me he found you in bed with Robb.”

“Not my best moment,” he mumbled with a blush.

“Ned was happy,” she assured him. “Cat wasn’t thrilled, but Ned told me that it was easy to see that Robb was head over heels for you and that he would be happy to have you as a son. We were all disappointed when the two of you broke up.”

Jon winced at that. “I was stupid and let my fear of Aerys get the better of me.”

Lyanna nodded. “Rhaegar figured it was something like that. That was when he told me about Aeyrs’s abuse. I made him sleep on the couch for a full month once I realized he had just left you to the man’s abuse,” she said with a proud gleam in her eye. “I tried making plans to get you away, but you had graduated by the time I was ready to put them in motion, and by then it seemed like you didn’t want anything to do with any of us.”

She looked so sad at the thought that Jon had to reassure her.

“I didn’t think I _deserved_ any of you,” he confessed. “Robb most of all.”

Tears welled in Lyanna’s eyes at his words, and he instantly felt bad for putting more on her shoulders. She shook her head, though, and refused to let them fall.

“Well,” she said brusquely, pushing back her emotions and giving him a stern look. “You are never to think something so stupid again,” she told him in a tone that brooked no argument. “You are family twice-over through both Robb and Rhaegar. You’re stuck with us, mister.”

He swallowed around the lump of emotions that lodged in his throat and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she declared, pulling him down so that they were both seated on an uncomfortable couch with plastic upholstery. She grabbed his hand firmly in his and gave him a brave smile. “Now, let’s sit here and you can hold my hand and assure me that my husband will be fine and that the fine men and women of the NYPD will catch the monster who did this.”

“Deal.”

tbc…


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Lyanna had been allowed back to sit with Rhaegar about an hour into their wait. Jon stayed in the waiting room, as only one person at a time was allowed back in the ICU. She had come out twice to let him know there was no change, with Jon assuring her each time that he was fine waiting outside. She should be with her husband, he argued, and he was resolved to stay there until the rest of the family arrived.

He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch after she went back the second time, feeling exhausted after the emotionally harrowing day. His head snapped up, though, when a familiar voice greeted him.

“Jon,” Sam said as he appeared in the door of the waiting room, keeping his voice low in deference to their surroundings. Jon really didn’t think that was necessary, not when the doctors and nurses made enough noise with their constant bustling in and out. “I saw Robb was caught up with the police after they were done with me so I figured I’d come by to sit with you and see how you were doing.”

Jon gave him a tired smile. “Thanks, Sam. I’m alright, though. You didn’t have to come all the way here.”

“I wanted to,” he replied earnestly, easing down into an adjacent armchair. He gave Jon a sheepish look. “I gave you such a hard time the other morning, and I’ve been feeling guilty ever since, especially knowing how much you have on your plate with the investigation.”

“I understand,” he told him sincerely. If Sam had gotten back together with a significant other who Jon thought knew about his abuse and did nothing, he might have had a similar reaction.

Sam gave him a grateful smile. “So,” he segued away from an obviously uncomfortable with the topic. “How’s the investigation going?”

“Not bad,” Jon answered with a weary twist of his lips. “Got a lead on the first victim out of Jersey. And we know how the victims connect. I’m sure we’ll make some head way soon.”

“That’s good, then,” he said, shifting anxiously in his seat and glancing nervously towards the door way.

Jon frowned. “Something wrong?”

Sam started but shook his head sharply. “No, sorry. I just hate hospitals,” he replied with a shaky smile. “Bad memories.”

He nodded, even if he didn’t quite understand. He assumed it has something to do with his abuse, though, and thought it best not to ask. They both looked up as they heard footsteps approaching. Jon felt something unclench inside of him at the sight of all the Starks, not realizing how worried he was about them until that moment.

Jon and Sam both stood to greet them.

“How’s Rhaegar?” Ned asked.

“The doctor says that he’ll be fine,” Jon replied, leaning gratefully into Robb as his boyfriend slid an arm around him. “Lyanna is with him in the ICU. They’ll only let one person back at a time.”

“For heaven’s sake, Jon, sit down before you fall over,” Catelyn told him brusquely. “You look exhausted.”

The concern in her eyes directed at _him_ startled him, but he let Robb lead him back to the couch to sit down, the rest of the family taking seats near him, with Sam giving a hasty goodbye and excusing himself quietly.

“Did the police tell you anything?” Jon asked wearily, hoping the investigation had gotten somewhere but not holding out much hope. He was sure that whoever had poisoned Rhaegar had cleared out before the nightshade had even passed his foster brother’s lips.

“No,” Robb answered, gazing at Jon with naked worry in his eye. Jon wished he wouldn’t. It wasn’t him that anyone should be worried about. Rhaegar was the one who was poisoned, after all. And if the killer kept with the pattern, it was _Aerys_ that he’d go after next.

Something clenched inside him at that. He didn’t know how he felt about Aerys’ life being in danger because of the things he had done to Jon when he was younger. On one hand, it felt like justice, but on the other, it felt _wrong_ to even think that. And no matter how awful Aerys had made his life, no matter how much he hurt him, if Aerys was murdered because of _him_ , Jon would feel guilty, both because he was the motive _and_ because he hadn’t been smart enough to catch the killer before he could.

“You shouldn’t worry about that right now,” Ned told him gently. “I am sure your colleagues are doing their best right now. Take the weekend and relax. Your lieutenant wanted me to inform you that you aren’t to come in before Monday morning.”

That didn’t make him feel better. Not when he had all weekend to think about how he was doing absolutely _nothing_ to catch this asshole. Before he could say anything to that, Lyanna walked into the waiting room and took the attention off of him for the moment.

“Taking the weekend off might be good for you,” Robb said in a low voice. “This investigation isn’t more important than your health.”

He shook his head. “People are _dying_ , Robb,” he replied, voice cracking a bit. “How can I be more important than saving them?”

Robb grabbed his hand in a tight grip with his free hand. “You can’t think like that,” he pleaded. “If you do, you’ll stress yourself into an early grave. Yes, the investigation is important, but it isn’t all on you.”

Instead of answering, Jon focused on the conversation around them.

“There’s no reason for you all to be here,” Lyanna was telling Ned and Catelyn. “Why don’t you all go home and get some rest?”

Her brother frowned at her. “I’ll stay here with you. Cat and the kids can head home to rest.”

Jon barely had time to realize he was included in “the kids” before he was being led out of the waiting room and towards the parking garage. Lyanna promised to tell him when she had heard from Dany as he was ushered out, and before he knew it, he was in Robb’s SUV headed towards his boyfriend’s apartment.

“Tell me honestly,” Robb said, giving him a serious look as they stopped at a light. “How are you feeling?”

Jon sighed. “Tired,” was the first thing that came to his mind. “A little useless and guilty,” he added as he thought about it more, knowing it probably wasn’t something Robb wanted to hear but he wanted to be honest.

“You are _not_ useless,” Robb replied firmly, reaching over to grip his hand tightly. “If it weren’t for you, Rhaegar would be dead right now. And none of any of this is your fault so you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

“I know that in my head,” he muttered. “It’s just hard to accept when there’s still a killer on the loose.”

“What can I do?” Robb asked in a lost voice as they turned down his street. “How can I help?”

Jon gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand. “You already have,” he told him sincerely. “I don’t know how I would have handled this alone.”

“You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever again,” Robb stated with certainty.

“I know,” he replied softly, his heart feeling a bit too full. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

 

#

 

Jon woke up alone in Robb’s bed Sunday morning, frowning as he blinked at the bright sun shining through the windows. They had spent most of Saturday lazing around the apartment, with Robb trying his best to distract Jon from the fact that he wasn’t working on the investigation. It hadn’t exactly worked, but Jon appreciated the effort all the same.

After falling asleep last night wrapped all around his boyfriend, though, waking up alone was a bit of a disappointment. Hearing a murmur of voices wafting through the bedroom door, though, he figured they had visitors and Robb hadn’t wanted to disturb him.

He shook his head ruefully as he sat up in bed as he realized what he had just thought. _They_ didn’t have visitors. _Robb_ had visitors. This wasn’t his apartment, he reminded himself. He had only spent four nights there so far. He and Robb had been back together barely a week. It was much too soon for that kind of thinking.

Pushing that train of thought away, Jon rummaged through Robb’s drawers to borrow some boxers, a t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. Figuring he should look a little more presentable if Robb’s visitors were going to stick around, he took a quick shower before quickly dressing.

No sooner than he walked out of the bedroom, though, that his worries about the visitors being only _Robb’s_ were completely blown away.

“ _Jon!_ ” a female voice cried joyously. He barely had time to open his arms before Dany was hanging off his neck.

“Dany,” he whispered into her pale blonde hair, closing his eyes and held her tight and savoring the feel of his foster sister in his arms once more. “When did you get in?”

She pulled back and beamed up at him, her violet eyes sparkling with joy. “Early this morning. I wanted to wake you up as soon as I got here, but Robb insisted that we let you rest. Oh!” she said suddenly, eyes widening as she tugged him further into the dining room, where Jon could now see Robb having coffee with a very large man that had to be her fiance. “You haven’t met Drogo, yet.”

If Jon had to describe Drogo’s appearance, standing at least a head and a half over him, in one word, it would have been _dangerous_. That was before the taller man grinned with his entire face and wrapped him in a hug that took him off guard, to say the least.

“Brother Jon!” he greeted jubilantly in an accent Jon couldn’t quite place. “My Dany has told me so much about you! I feel as if we are family already!”

If Jon had any misgivings about this man, the devoted glance he gave his foster sister set his mind at ease. Of course, he had probably given up his right to judge Dany’s life choices when he all but disappeared for ten years.

“Well, as long as you treat my sister right, I’m sure we’ll get along great,” he replied, only half-joking as he poured his own cup of coffee and joined them at the table.

“I think we’re finally old enough that you don’t have to worry so much about protecting me,” Dany said meaningfully, her violet eyes full of steel as she leveled a serious gaze on him. “Rhaegar woke up this morning, by the way,” she added, letting him know in no uncertain terms exactly what she meant. “The doctors say he’s doing better than expected.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said, looking down at his coffee.

A slightly uncomfortable silence settled around the table. Well, it was probably only uncomfortable to _him_ because of the look Dany was giving him. Of _course_ she had to have realized that Jon staying with Aerys was to protect her. He couldn’t imagine how awful that knowledge probably made her feel.

Actually, he could. It was probably exactly how he felt knowing that someone had poisoned Rhaegar in a misguided pursuit of justice on his behalf.

“So Aunt Lyanna told us that you finally set a date,” Robb said, thankfully changing the subject.

“We have. Next October,” Drogo said enthusiastically, ignoring the way Dany was still frowning at Jon. “My family owns a vineyard in Spain, and it is beautiful in October.”

Dany’s face softened at that as she reached over to grab Jon’s hand. “I am so glad you decided to come back to us before the wedding, Jon,” Dany said sincerely.

His face flushed at that, once again feeling shame for running away from his family. He still wasn’t sure if he deserved any of them, but he hadn’t realized how much it would hurt them for him to just disappear. _They_ didn’t deserve _that_.

“Well, we’re not going to let him leave again,” Robb told her, slinging an arm over Jon’s shoulders and giving him an easy smile. He felt a little better at knowing that Robb didn’t blame him for leaving and breaking his heart. If his boyfriend could put it behind him, Jon could do the same.

“That won’t be a problem,” Jon quipped with a smirk. “Arya has already threatened to kill me if I tried, and I’m pretty sure her girlfriend would help her get away with it.”

After they had all laughed at that, Robb glanced at the time and frowned. “Now that Jon is up and dressed, we should probably get to the hospital. With Rhaegar awake, I’m sure he’d like to see all of you.”

Though Jon was nowhere near ready to see Rhaegar, he knew he couldn’t put if off. “Let me throw on a sweater before we go,” he said with a sigh as he stood. Robb followed him to the bedroom, under the guise of needing to get his shoes when Jon _knew_ they were by the door where Robb had kicked them off.

So he wasn’t surprised when his boyfriend swept him into a messy kiss as soon as they were out of sigh of Dany and Drogo.

“Do you have any idea what seeing you in my clothes does to me?” he growled as he gripped Jon’s hips and pulled him flush against him before capturing his lips once more.

Jon moaned into the kiss, trying to be quiet, very aware of his foster sister and her fiance in the next room. “You are intentionally trying to distract me,” he accused, biting his lip as Robb’s kissed his way up his jaw to nibble at his ear.

Robb huffed a laugh, the feeling of his breath against his tender skin causing Jon to shiver. He pressed one final kiss to Jon’s temple before stepping back. “Find a sweater. I’ll get my shoes.”

He rolled his eyes. “You mean the shoes that you know you left in the other room?”

“Just for that, you get no more kisses this morning,” he told him playfully.

“That’d be more of a threat if it wasn’t already almost noon,” he shot back, grabbing a random sweater out of Robb’s closet and pulling it over his head.

“Well, you can’t expect me to deprive myself just to punish you,” Robb replied with a laugh before walking out.

Jon shook his head and grabbed his phone, frowning as he noticed that he had text from Yoren and Tormund.

Yoren’s just gave him an update on the situation with Rhaegar and Aerys. _Two cops will be guarding Rhaegar until killer is caught._ _Posting a black &white on Aerys. Make sure the Starks are vigilant._

Tormund’s, though, was a bit more informative. _Narrowed down the kids of Keep to one daughter who we think might be our perp. Name is Gillian Keep, but she’s MIA. Will keep you updated._

Having a possible name for their killer made him feel a bit better, even if they were no closer to catching her.

Stuffing his phone in his pocket, he quickly joined the others and headed out of the apartment, not even bothering protesting when Dany steered him towards the backseat of Robb’s SUV and slid in next to him.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier,” she said softly as they pulled out of the garage. “It’s just… Jon, you’re my brother. I don’t care if we aren’t blood-related,” she stated before he could think to even argue the point. “You took care of me when I was little, you saved me the night Viserys died, and you suffered _so much_ for _me_ that I…” She trailed off, eyes full of tears as she took a deep breath and continued, “I just want to see you happy.”

He smiled and wrapped an arm around her. “I am now,” he assured her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. She shot him a look, and he gave her a contrite look. “Maybe I wasn’t before,” he admitted, shooting a meaningful look towards Robb in the driver’s seat. “But I am _now._ ”

“And you’re really staying for good, right?” Dany asked, sounding very young as she looked up at him with sad eyes. “You promise you won’t leave again?”

“I promise,” he vowed, catching Robb’s eye in the rearview mirror, promising both of them. “And I will _definitely_ be at your wedding. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

#

 

Rhaegar was asleep when they arrived at his hospital room. Jon was actually a little relieved. His reunion with Dany had been more emotional for him than he had expected. He wasn’t sure if he was mentally prepared to talk to Rhaegar at the moment.

He was happy to see that the cops Yoren had told him about were stationed outside of Rhaegar’s room. At least his foster brother should be fairly safe while he was at the hospital.

They were lingering in the hallway so as not to disturb Rhaegar’s sleep, Dany and Drogo greeting Lyanna as Robb and Ned murmured together. Jon excused himself quietly, pulling his phone out to call Tormund as soon as he was out of sight. He didn’t want Robb to know he was worrying about the investigation. That would only make Robb worry more about _him_.

“Hornblower,” the other detective answered.

“Tormund, it’s Jon,” he said. “Anything new?”

“Someone is bad at not working,” he quipped but answered anyway. “Nothing other than what I already told you. Still no leads on where this Gillian Keep is. It’s like she’s dropped off the map completely.”

“That sounds pretty suspicious,” Jon remarked.

“Yeah, if I offed my father, I’d probably disappear too,” Tormund agreed grimly. “And turns out her father was a pretty nasty piece of work. Social services found out about his abuse because Gillian turned up at the hospital miscarrying _his_ baby.”

Jon’s stomach turned at that. If Gillian Keep did kill her rapist father, he wasn’t sure if he could really blame her. But why would a girl from Jersey City be focusing on abusers on the Upper East Side?

“Keep me updated, okay?”

“You got it, Snow.”

“Jon,” a voice greeted him as soon as he hung up.

He looked up in confusion to see Sam smiling at him pleasantly. He furrowed his brow, feeling suspicious of Sam’s open smile and concerned eyes. He shook the feeling away. This case was making him paranoid.

“Sam,” he returned the greeting. “What are you doing here?”

The other man shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood. Just thought I’d drop by and see how Rhaegar and his family were doing.”

Jon smiled. “Much better,” he informed him. “Rhaegar woke up earlier and the doctors say his recovery is going better than they had hoped.”

“Well, that’s good!” Sam said with a guileless smile. “Any closer to finding the person who did this?”

He opened his mouth to answer but stopped himself. “I think I should keep that info to myself, Sam,” he said instead. “No offense, but as we close in on the end of the investigation, it’s probably best if nothing is leaked.”

Sam’s eyes widened but he nodded. “I understand. Well, I’ll let you get back to everyone,” he said awkwardly, backing away as he rubbed his hands anxiously. “Tell Rhaegar I said get well soon.”

Jon frowned as he watched Sam beat a hasty retreat. He had never seen his friend so awkward, which was saying something because he had seen him attempt to flirt with Ygritte before.

He shook his head and headed back towards where Robb and the others were waiting for him. Whatever memories Sam had of hospitals from his childhood, they must be really bad.

tbc…


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Jon entered the hospital room, very grateful for Robb’s steadying hand on the small of his back. Dany and Drogo were already in the room, gathered with Lyanna on the far side of the bed. He gulped as his eyes were slowly drawn to the man in the bed.

Rhaegar was sitting up, smiling up at Dany as she grasped his hand. Though he seemed to be in good spirits, Jon couldn’t help noticing with a sinking feeling of guilt that he looked terrible.

His foster brother’s violet eyes caught sight of them, and Jon was surprised when Rhaegar turned and beamed at him in welcome.

“Jon!” he greeted, beckoning him closer. “I hear you’re the one I have to thank for saving my life.”

He flushed at that. “I just did what anyone in the situation would do,” he replied.

Rhaegar raised a brow at him. “But you were the only one who _knew_ to do it,” he told him. “And I am very grateful you were there to save me. Even if I didn’t deserve it.”

“Of _course_ you deserved it!” Dany protested immediately.

Rhaegar shook his head and gave her a sad smile. “No, I deserved to be punished for just _leaving_ Jon with Aerys.”

“No,” Jon said firmly. “The only one who has any right to blame you for that is me, and I don’t.”

It was the truth. He had never blamed Rhaegar for anything. Maybe he should. He knew Robb and Lyanna did. But he didn’t. What if Rhaegar had tried to get him away and had failed? Then Jon and Dany both would have been stuck with Aerys. Dany being there would have made everything so much worse. Jon could take being hurt, but he didn’t think he could’ve taken watching _Dany_ get hurt.

“Well, you should,” his foster brother insisted, clenching his jaw as he glared at the opposite wall. “I left you with a monster, knowing he had already killed Viserys. It’s a miracle you survived, let alone grow into such an amazing man.”

Jon didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t sure he deserved such high praise, but arguing with Rhaegar seemed futile, and he knew that he would get no help from any of the others in the room.

“Did you see who poisoned you?” he asked instead, wanting the attention off of himself. “Who gave you the coffee you were drinking?”

“I did, but I didn’t _poison_ him,” Lyanna cut in before Rhaegar could answer. “I got us both coffee from the kitchen.”

“Was there anyone in the kitchen with you?” Jon asked urgently. 

Lyanna sighed. “There were a lot of people in the kitchen. Any of them could have slipped something into the cup.”

Of course there were, Jon thought glumly. Nothing about this investigation had been simple so far. Why would it be now?

“Do the police think this killer could come back?” Drogo asked, gesturing towards the officers just visible outside the door. “Is that why they think protection is needed?”

“It’s just a precaution,” Jon assured them, though he honestly wasn’t sure. As far as he knew, no one had any idea how the killer operated. The killer could compulsively go after Rhaegar until they were either successful or caught, or they could just move on to the next target. There was really no way to know since none of their victims so far had survived.

They moved on to lighter subjects and chatted for a little while before Jon and Robb excused themselves with the excuse of getting coffee in order to let the Targaryens catch up.

“I told Dany and Drogo they could stay in our guest room,” Robb told him as they were waiting for their coffee order at the small coffee canteen in the cafeteria. Jon gave him a startled look at the word _our_. “It makes sense since they don’t know how long they’ll be here with Rhaegar, and the apartment is plenty big so it won’t feel crowded,” Robb explained, mistaking his look. “And I figured you’d want to spend time with Dany.”

“No, that’s great,” Jon said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s just… you said ‘our.’”

Robb’s eyes widened, and he dunked his head slightly and gave Jon a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be presumptuous. I know it’s way too soon to be thinking of moving into together or anything, but God, Jon, you know how I feel about you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said earnestly. “I guess I’ve just been getting ahead of myself a little.”

Jon’s heart felt full at Robb’s confession. Even if it was something he already knew, the thought that Robb planned on them spending the rest of their lives together filled him with happiness. “I have, too,” he admitted, smiling shyly at him. “I’ve kinda had to stop myself from thinking of your apartment as _our_ apartment before.”

“Don’t,” Robb told him. “Stop yourself from thinking that, I mean,” he added. “I want you to consider my apartment as yours. I’m not saying you have to move in or anything. I mean, I _want_ you to. I mean… ugh, this isn’t coming out right.”

“I get it,” Jon said with a chuckle, something inside of him easing at seeing Robb so flustered. His boyfriend seemed so confident and put together all the time so it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one who was a little anxious sometimes. “And I do,” he added. “Want to move in with you, that is. Maybe not right away but soon.”

To be honest, he was a little frightened about how much he wanted to move in with Robb _right now_. Two weeks ago he had been alone, pining over a man he had broken the heart of in high school. Hell, when he had gotten shot a year ago, he distinctly remembered thinking, right before he passed out, how sad it was that no one would even miss him if he died.

Now, he had Robb. And not only Robb, but all the Starks. And Dany and Rhaegar. He had _family_.

And he was happy. _Thrilled_ , even. But it was a lot to take in. _Too much_ , really. It felt too good to be true, and he was _terrified_ that he was going to wake up and find that it was all a dream.

Which was ridiculous, because most of his dreams didn’t include murder.

“Soon,” Robb agreed with a grin just as the barista placed their coffees on the counter.

“Well,” Jon said, grabbing his coffee. “If I’m going to be staying at your place—“

“Our place,” the other corrected with a smug smirk as they began walking towards the elevators.

“ _Our_ place,” he continued in fond amusement. “If I’m going to be staying there while Dany and Drogo are in town, I need to pack some clothes. I can’t keep wearing yours.”

Robb sighed. “I supposed you can’t, even if they look very good on you,” he replied teasingly.

“Anyway,” Jon said, ignoring Robb’s comment in order to keep from blushing. “Why don’t you go find your family in the waiting room while I head to my apartment to pack? You can pick me up when you leave.”

“Or you could just take the SUV?” he suggested, taking the keys out of his pocket and dangling them in front of Jon. “Come back when you’re done and we’ll all go to dinner.”

Jon was surprised at the offer. It was one thing to drive Yoren’s department-issued car. It was another thing to borrow Robb’s personal car. “Are you sure?”

Robb smiled and pressed the keys into his hand. “What’s mine is yours.”

“Alright, well, it shouldn’t take me too long,” he replied.

“Take all the time you need. And pack a large suitcase,” Robb added with a wink.

Jon rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure all of my clothes were fit in a large suitcase.”

“Sounds perfect,” he stated, leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss. “Now get going so you can be back sooner.”

Jon punched both the down and up buttons of the elevator, leaning into Robb slightly as they waited. The elevator to the left opened with the down indicator lit up, and he reluctantly pulled away. “I’ll see you later,” he said, giving Robb one final kiss.

“I’ll take that as a promise that you aren’t going to drive to California in my car,” he quipped.

“Idiot,” he said fondly as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to the correct floor. The doors closed, and he was moving downwards. It didn’t take him long to get to the parking garage and into Robb’s SUV.

His phone rang just as he was pulling up to his apartment building. “Snow,” he answered.

“Jon, it’s Tormund,” the other detective greeted. “Listen, we finally got a photograph of Gillian Keep. It’s a bit old, but she can’t have changed too much. We’re e-mailing it over to you as soon as Edd here can figure out how to work the damn scanner. None of us recognize her from any of the scenes, but you’ve been around these people more than we have.”

“Great,” he said as he entered his building and began walking up the stairs. “I’ll take a look at it as soon as it comes through.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Jon.”

“No problem,” he replied, hanging up the phone before he took the final flight of steps. He stopped short on the landing as he realized that there was someone waiting for him by his door. “Gilly?”

She started at her name and whirled around with wide eyes. “Jon,” she said anxiously, shifting her weight from side to side. “I need to talk to you. It’s about what happened to Rhaegar.”

“Did you see something?” he asked, slipping into detective mode as he remembered that Gilly had been helping out in the Tully kitchen after the funeral.

Gilly bit her lip and glanced around the hallway nervously. “Can we go inside?”

“Sure,” Jon told her, mentally scolding himself for being so rude. It was obvious the girl was scared. He stepped past her and unlocked the door. He pushed the door open with one hand before gesturing her inside, remembering his manners enough to hold the door open for her before entering the apartment himself.

He gave her a reassuring smile as she turned to face him. He guided her to the sofa and gestured for her to sit down. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, though he wasn’t quite sure what he had in the apartment to offer her.

She gave him a shaky smile. “Some water would be nice.”

Jon moved to the kitchen, keeping a careful eye on the girl, half-afraid she would pass out at any moment. His phone pinged as he reached for a glass. “Ice or no ice?” he asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket and seeing that he had a new e-mail from Tormund.

“Ice, please,” Gilly replied, giving him a wary look. Jon couldn’t help but wonder what she had seen to make her so fearful.

He thumbed open the e-mail as he turned to get ice from the refrigerator. He froze, though, as the picture loaded.

It was Gilly.

Her hair was shorter and blonder, her face was younger and a bit thinner, but it was _Gilly_.

He had just enough time to reply, _911, my place_ , to the e-mail before Gilly spoke up from behind him.

“Put the glass and the phone down and turn around slowly,” she said in a voice that sounded much stronger than the anxious one she had been using earlier.

Not wanting to antagonize her, Jon did as she said, placing the phone and glass on the counter before turning around. He gulped a bit when he saw the gun she was point at him, wishing he had his own weapon on him.

“Come into the living room,” she ordered, keeping the gun trained on him as he walked around the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t think guns were your M.O.,” he commented, trying to keep his tone light and praying that Tormund understood his e-mail and sent back-up soon.

“You don’t deserve to have a knife shoved in your back,” Gilly replied a bit sadly. “They did. They _hurt_ their children. They deserved to know how it feels to have a sharp blade stabbed into their back.”

Personally, Jon didn’t think dying from a bullet was much different than dying from a knife. Dead was dead, after all. Still, he needed to keep her talking.

“And the poison?”

“That was Sam,” she replied matter-of-factly. “He doesn’t really like blood.”

_Sam_. Jon’s mind was thrown through the loop at that. _Sam_ had poisoned Jon Arryn. _Sam_ had poisoned Judge Baratheon.

Sam had poisoned _Rhaegar_.

He tried to push away the betrayal, needing to focus and not let his emotions get the best of him. If he did, he would end up dead.

He might end up dead anyway.

“Does Sam know you’re here?”

She scoffed. “Sam isn’t strong enough to do what has to be done,” she told him. “But I have to protect _both_ of us. I told him you’d figure it out. You’re the only one who pays attention to him, you know, so I knew you’d notice me. All those other rich snobs just see us as people to be used.”

“But they knew you,” Jon said thoughtfully. “That’s why they answered the door for you when you came to offer condolences. That’s why they trusted Sam enough to give him time to slip the poison in something he knew they’d drink.”

“See, smart,” she said, shaking her head. “Sam will be sad that I had to shoot you.”

The door opened suddenly behind Gilly, and she whirled around to face the new threat. Jon felt a moment of relief, but then Gilly relaxed as they both registered that it was Sam standing in the door, wide eyes taking in the scene.

Before Jon could do make a move, the gun was pointed back to him.

“Gilly…” Sam said fretfully. “You can’t. It’s _Jon_.”

“I have to, Sam,” she said firmly. “If I don’t, we both go to prison for the rest of our lives. Who’ll look after little Sam then? Do you really want your son to be born in prison?”

“We can’t kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it,” he argued, wringing his hands anxiously. “Jon has never hurt anyone. Jon _helps_ people.”

“So do we,” Gilly insisted. “And we can’t do that from prison.”

A gunshot sounded as Sam yelled, “No!” 

It all happened so fast that Jon didn’t see what happened, but from the blaring pain that erupted in his leg, he knew that Gilly’s shot had for some reason missed its mark.

He crumpled to the ground in agony, holding his leg uselessly as blood gushed out of the wound. Black spots danced in front of his eyes, but he wasn’t sure if that was from the pain or the blood loss. He knew he wasn’t out of danger just because Gilly had missed. If the bullet severed his femoral artery, he was done for. 

And with the amount of blood currently staining the cheap carpet of his apartment, he was sure something major had at least been nicked.

He felt faint as he glanced up to look at his would-be murderer and his once friend. They were arguing about something, but Jon couldn’t make out the words. He frowned at that. They were obviously speaking loudly and weren’t very far away.

So why couldn’t he hear them?

His eyelids felt heavy. He knew that he had to keep his eyes open, but despite his best efforts, he could feel them slipping closed.

At least he was leaving behind people who would miss him, Jon thought sadly, feeling a pang of remorse as he thought of Robb. He hoped the other man wouldn’t take his death too hard.

tbc…


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured a quick update was warranted after that cliffhanger.

There was an annoying beeping sound coming from somewhere in the apartment. Jon furrowed his brow and tried to ignore it, just wanting to stay asleep, but it was no use. He tried turning over to bury his head in his pillows, but as soon as he tried moving, stabbing pain shot through his leg.

He hissed and stilled, trying to will the pain away as what had happened came back to him in a rush.

With great effort, he opened his eyes, blinking up at the white ceiling and trying to figure out where he was. The beeping was still there and coming from his left. He flopped his head over and frowned as he saw the medical equipment there, an IV line going to arm. The beeping, he discovered, was coming from a heart monitor.

Hospital. Well, that explained why he wasn’t dead.

He could hear breathing from his right. He must be in a double room. He turned his head, expecting to find another patient in the bed next to him, only to find out there was no other bed. Instead, he saw Robb, slumped and sleeping in a chair at his bedside.

Considering the clock on the wall read 1:15 and it was dark outside, Jon was loath to wake his slumbering boyfriend. With the pain lancing through his leg, though, he definitely needed more pain medication. Hoping the nurse wouldn’t wake Robb, he pressed the call button.

Thankfully the light knock on the door didn’t cause Robb to stir, and the nurse opened the door quietly, smiling at Jon as she approached the bed.

“You’ve given everyone quite the scare, detective,” she told him in a low voice. “It was touch and go there for a little bit, but you’re a fighter, aren’t you?”

He frowned at that. “How long was I out?”

“About two days, including the day you were shot,” she replied. “Do you need something for the pain?”

He nodded absently as he turned his head to look at Robb. No wonder his boyfriend looked so worn out. Robb must have been going out of his mind with worry.

“Your family left around eleven, but your boyfriend refused to leave,” his nurse continued, nodding at Robb as she depressed a syringe into his IV line. “You should wake him before the pain medicine knocks you out again,” she advised him. She straightened and smiled at him. “The doctor will be in in the morning to tell you about your injury and treatment plan,” she said before leaving the room.

Jon could already feel the pain receding slightly as he turned to look at Robb once more. He really did look like he needed the rest, but Jon knew that if their positions were reversed, he would hate himself for being asleep when Robb finally woke up. 

He reached his arm out while trying to keep the rest of his body still, but frowned when Robb was just out of reach to touch.

“Robb,” he called softly, trying a different tactic as he let his arm fall back onto the bed. His boyfriend stirred in his sleep but didn’t wake. “Robb,” he said a bit louder.

He started awake at that, furrowing his brow in confusion before he noticed Jon was awake. “Jon!” he exclaimed, scrambling up and over to his side. He grabbed Jon’s hand in a tight grip as his other hand came up to rest in his curls. Jon’s heart ached as he realized there were tears in his boyfriend’s eyes.

“Sorry I worried you,” Jon murmured.

“God, Jon, don’t apologize,” Robb said thickly, shaking his head. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“Well,” he said ruefully with a little gesture towards his leg. “Mostly okay.”

Robb choked on a laugh that was half-sob. “Jon, you nearly _died_. I just got you back and I almost lost you…”

“You didn’t,” Jon assured him, squeezing his hand. “I’m going to be fine.”

His eyelids felt heavy as he blinked up at Robb, and he had to force himself to keep them open. He wanted to curse the medication the nurse had given him. It may have dulled his pain, but he wished it didn’t make him so drowsy.

“You’re exhausted,” Robb said, noticing Jon’s trouble with keeping his eyes open. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jon’s lips quirked up in a sleep facsimile of a smile. “Vast improvement over the last time I was shot,” he slurred out as he let his eyes slip shut. He hummed in contentment as he felt Robb pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I love you,” was the last thing he heard before sleep overtook him.

 

#

 

The next time he woke up, his room was substantially more crowded. All the Starks were standing around, carefully arranged so as not crowd the bed itself. Dany and Drogo were there, too, chatting with Sansa near the window. The only ones who were missing were Lyanna and Rhaegar, who were, presumably, in Rhaegar’s room.

Which might be at different hospital altogether, Jon realized with a frown. That would be pretty inconvenient.

It didn’t take long for someone to notice that he was awake.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Arya said, calling everyone’s attention to him.

“Are you in pain?” Ned asked him in concern, stepping closer to the bed. “Do you need us to call the nurse?”

Jon frowned as he considered the question. His thigh was throbbing in pain, but he didn’t really want to sleep anymore. Not when everyone had made an effort to be there to visit him. “I’m fine for now.”

The only visitor he had had the last time he was the hospital was Ygritte. He was touched to have a room full of visitors now.

“You are never allowed to get shot again,” Dany declared, folding her arms as she glared down at him with one brow raised. 

He snorted at that, fumbling with the little remote that controlled his bed and finally managing to raise the head of the bed so he wasn’t lying so flat. “I wasn’t really planning on it this time. Not exactly sure how I got here after I was shot, actually.”

“Lieutenant Yoren said you managed to send an e-mail for back-up,” Robb answered. “Said they got there in time to take down Sam and Gilly and get you an ambulance.”

Jon still couldn’t believe that Sam and Gilly were behind the murders. Sam had been his friend since high school. The other man had been there for him his senior year after he and Robb had broken up and had kept him going. If you had asked Jon a few days ago, he would have said that he had _never_ met a better person than Samwell Tarly.

It didn’t make sense to him.

Had Gilly been the instigator? Had she been the one to turn Sam into a murderer?

Thankfully, before anyone could say anything else, there was a knock on the door before a doctor walked in. “Detective Snow? I’m Dr. Thompson. I’d like to give you a rundown on your injury and treatment now that you’re conscious. If the rest of you would excuse us…?”

Jon’s family shuffled out, but Jon reached out to grab Robb’s hand before he could move. “Robb can stay.”

It would be a lot easier for the doctor to explain things to Robb now than for Jon to try later. Besides, it was probably a good idea to have someone not groggy and distracted by pain to hear the doctor’s explanation.

“Well, unfortunately, the bullet fractured your femur and nicked your femoral artery,” Dr. Thompson informed, glancing down at the chart in his hand. “We were able to repair both surgically, but I’m afraid you are facing a lot of physical therapy in your future.”

Jon grimaced at that. “How long will I be out of the field?”

His doctor gave him a stern look. “As long as your physical therapist deems necessary. I would plan on at least two months of light duty, and that’s _after_ a few weeks of leave.”

He wanted to groan in frustration at the news. Light duty equaled desk duty, which meant months of sitting on his ass uselessly while others worked the field.

“But he’ll make a full recovery, right?” Robb asked, glancing down at Jon with a worried look.

“If he listens to his physical therapist.” he replied. “I assume someone will be around to help him out when he’s discharged? I don’t want him straining himself while he’s healing.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Robb answered, giving Jon a smile. “He’ll be staying with me, and I’ve already arranged to be off work for the first couple of weeks.”

“Great,” Dr. Thompson said. “Well, we’ll discharge you as soon as we’re satisfied that your pain can be managed with just pills and you can get around all right with the crutches. Are you in pain right now, Jon?”

“A little,” he admitted, downplaying the pain in hopes of being able to go home sooner.

The doctor didn’t seem like he was fooled, though. “I’ll have the nurse come in to give you some Percocet. If you’re still in pain an hour after that, we’ll give you something stronger in the IV.”

Jon gave Robb a guilty look after the doctor had left. “You didn’t have to take off work for me.”

Robb snorted. “I know. Dany is already planning on staying for a couple of weeks, too, to help you out, and my parents, Arya, Sansa, and Rickon have already volunteered to be around if you need them. Bran, too, though he fully admits that he won’t be much help in physically helping you get around. You actually will probably have so many helpers that you’re going to get annoyed, but you scared us, Jon. I think we all just want to be around you as much as possible to remind ourselves that you’re okay.”

He turned his head to give himself time to blink away his tears, not that he fooled Robb for a second.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down gingerly on the bed and cupping his cheek. “What is it?”

“It’s just… I forgot what it was like to have a family,” Jon confessed, giving him a watery smile.

“Well, you’ll never have an opportunity to forget again,” Robb told him. “I promise.”

 

#

 

Jon didn’t even remember falling asleep the next time he woke. The Percocet hadn’t helped his pain, and with Robb hovering over him with a worried look, he hadn’t been able to lie about not being in pain. The last thing he remembered was the nurse giving him the medicine through his IV.

He blinked around the room, frowning when he only saw Lieutenant Yoren sitting in Robb’s chair. “Where’s Robb?”

Yoren looked up from the magazine he was thumbing through absently, setting it down as he straightened in the chair. “I asked him to give us a minute. I’m sure he isn’t far.”

“Oh,” he said, not knowing what else to say. Was Yoren hear to chew him out? He probably deserved it. He should have seen that Sam was acting suspiciously, and not connecting Gilly with Gillian Keep? That was a rookie mistake.

“So Tarly confessed,” Yoren told him with preamble. “He had already gotten the gun from Keep when Hornblower and Tollet had made it the apartment and went in with them without protest.”

“I never would have thought he could do this,” Jon admitted with a rueful shake of his head. “He’s _Sam_. He couldn’t even dissect the frog in high school biology!”

“Sometimes people let things fester inside them,” he said sagely. “That’s what happened with Tarly, I think. He told us his first victim was his mother.”

Jon’s head snapped up in shock at that. He had been there for Sam when his mother had died. He had been _devastated_.

“She had confessed that she had known all along that his father abused him right after the man died,” Yoren explained. “He thought she hadn’t known. He let that fester for a few months before he finally put belladonna in her tea one day. Got away with it because no one suspected foul play, but I think it broke something inside of him.”

So it hadn’t been grief that had devastated Sam—it was _guilt_.

“Then the poisoner met up with the stabber and managed to justify their actions to each other,” Yoren finished with a shrug. “Decided they made a pretty good team.”

Jon opened his mouth to say something, but wasn’t able to form any words. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What’s going to happen to them?”

“Three counts each of premeditated murder, and two counts of attempted? They’ll get life without parole,” he replied.

“And Gilly? Is she really pregnant?” Jon asked, remembering her words about _little Sam_. “What’s going to happen to the baby?”

“Well, if one of Gilly or Sam’s siblings don’t take him, he’ll go into the foster system,” Yoren told him.

The foster system. He knew exactly the type of life that could give a small child.

Jon shut his eyes. It all seemed like a horrible cycle to him. Abusers, victims, murderers, victims, it all went on and on and on. No matter what they did, it never stopped.

“Don’t think too much about it, Jon,” Yoren said, as if reading his mind. “All we can do is catch the bad guys and keep them from hurting other people. We can’t save everybody. We have to take the victories we get.” He stood up and gave him a small smile. “I expect to see you in two weeks. I’m sure I can find lots of paperwork to keep you busy.”

Jon’s answering smile turned became a little more genuine as Robb walked through the door.

Yoren was right. They did have to take the victories they could get. And Jon felt pretty damn victorious with Robb and his family back.

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably be a sequel, just fyi, which is why Theon never made an appearance in this story ;)


End file.
